


Faking It

by KaCole



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Action/Adventure, Episode: s07e11 Shattered, F/M, Fake Marriage, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaCole/pseuds/KaCole
Summary: Kathryn and Chakotay wake in a strange bed, stark naked, and are shocked to discover they're posing as newly weds. If Voyager's command team are to survive and save their crew, they'll have to figure out pretty damn fast how to fake it.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 229
Kudos: 251





	1. Not Jumping to Conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> If you need a little distraction from the Covid-19 misery, hop on for some J/C action-mystery fun!

Kathryn Janeway was naked.

Only twice in her life had she woken up this way; in a room she didn’t recognise, nude, and in the arms of an unknown man.

The first time she’d been a third year cadet, newly liberated from a dysfunctional relationship. She’d gotten lonely and had thought anonymous sex would scratch her itch, but the next morning she woke next to a man who, it turned out, had little to recommend him beyond a charming smile.

The second indiscretion happened two years, two months and thirteen days after her first fiancé had died, when grinding sadness finally gave way to a deep yearning for another's touch. 

That time she’d fled the unfamiliar apartment at dawn, appalled, vowing to exercise better judgement in the future.

Which she had.

For _years_.

So, 'surprised' hardly covered her reaction to finding herself, during the seventh year of _Voyager’s_ quest for home, in a strange bed, stark naked, and most definitely not alone.

A warm body spooned close behind her: a broad arm draped across her ribs, a large hand latched around her belly, and, unmistakably, an erection pressed into her lower back. She judged her companion to be sound asleep, although her lack of recent experience in sharing a bed hardly made her an expert on male sleeping habits. 

Her brain churned possibilities. Two sets of clothes scattered merrily across the bedroom floor weighed against the possibility she’d been the victim of coercion. She wasn’t hungover, so, not an alcohol-fuelled encounter then. In fact, all things considered, she felt pretty snug and relaxed. Quite cosy, if she was honest.

She could have easily closed her eyes and drifted away.

_No._

Tempting as snuggling up might be, she needed to slide out of bed, get into some clothes, and salvage a little dignity.

Naturally, at that exact moment the warm body behind her moved. 

Too late for evasive maneuvers now.

Was he a member of her crew? A stranger? Which would be worse? _Look on the bright side. After a few moments of crippling embarrassment, at least you’ll get some answers._

Her companion stirred further, and then their predicament must have dawned on him, too.

“Kathryn?” came a familiar voice. “What the hell is going on?”

Her heart flipped. _Chakotay_.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved, mortified, or a tiny bit turned on. Was it possible to feel all those things at once?

Sitting up, she clutched the sheets to her chest. “At ease, Commander. I don’t know any more than you do. I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation.”

Chakotay cast a baffled glance across the floor, eyes settling in turns on her bra, his shorts and a pair of lace panties. He looked up, deadpan. “How do you feel about the most obvious one?”

She flushed. “Let’s not...jump to conclusions. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“We were on the bridge. I think,” he said, frowning.

“That’s my last memory too. Nothing seemed amiss.” They lapsed into silence. To delay the prospect of meeting his eyes, Kathryn focused on the light spilling through the curtains and the dust dancing in the air above the bed. Finally she offered, “Doesn't feel like we're on a ship."

More silence. She risked a glance in Chakotay's direction. Her first officer sat clutching the sheets, his face as red as a Talaxian tomato.

He cleared his throat. “I'm just going to... um, go to the bathroom.” He dived out of bed, but his dash across the bedroom floor was broken by a stubbed toe. "Damn, damn it!"

Of course her eyes jerked in his direction. She was treated to the sight of his muscular bare back, leading down to trim, strong buttocks…as he hopped the rest of the way to the bathroom. She gave her head a vigorous shake. She should definitely stop looking and get moving before this situation got any more complicated. She dragged her eyes away. 

Seconds later Kathryn was racing about the bedroom, scooping clothes from the floor. She lobbed a pair of way-too-skimpy black lace panties onto the bed. What _had_ she been thinking?

Growing crosser by the minute, she yanked open each drawer in the chest by the bed. She found, thankfully, sensible, workaday items: three bras and multiple pairs of panties. She pulled on a set of underwear and turned to the wardrobe. Pants, summer dresses, t-shirts, shorts, strappy tops. A dark black suit and an elegant evening dress. All unfamiliar, but the sizes looked right. Easily enough clothes for a couple of weeks. She frowned. How long had she and Chakotay been here? And where _was_ here? Questions buzzed around her brain.

Kathryn flung on a pair of shorts and a top and then prowelled the room. No communicator, no tricorder, so no chance of hailing _Voyager..._ or scanning herself for biological traces of sex. She sighed. She had just woken up naked in Chakotay's arms. What other conclusion was she supposed to draw?

She shook her head. Whether or not she and Chakotay had been intimate last night was hardly the most pressing issue right now.

Where was _Voyager_?

***

In the bathroom, Chakotay snatched a white towel and tied it tight about his waist.

“Damn. Damn it!” What a way to start the day, waking up next to Kathryn with an embarrassingly robust erection. She'd obviously been aware of his aroused state; how could she not, with his manhood shoved into her back? At least she’d afforded him the dignity of not commenting on it.

He splashed cold water on his face, but that didn’t help. His head thundered with questions, and frankly, he didn’t know what to feel. Worried that they had no memory of how they got here? Disturbed that he and Kathryn had, apparently, slept together? And, the more pertinent question: what the hell happened to _Voyager_?

He plonked himself on the closed ‘fresher and put his head in his hands. 

When his erection finally subsided, he sighed, lifted the seat **,** ready to pee **.**

There was a note stuck on the underside of the lid. He blinked at it, hardly able to process the message. He put the note down in favour of emptying his bladder, half hoping when he picked it up again it would say something different.

He'd barely finished washing his hands when Kathryn knocked on the bathroom door. “Chakotay? I’m dressed. Do you want to come out?”

He opened the door. She wore shorts and a blue sun top dotted with small orange flowers that left her arms and shoulders bare. It was so far from anything he’d seen her wear, well ever, that he blinked in surprise before he regained his wits. 

He beckoned her inside and waved the note. “I just found this.” 

“That’s my handwriting.” Kathryn frowned, and then read aloud, “ _Voyager impounded. You are posing as newly-wed couple Kathy and Charlie Kotay._ _Be careful what you say. They are watching. Bathroom best place for conversations_.” She lowered her voice and leaned in towards him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I have no idea.” She stood dangerously close, considering he was wrapped in a towel and had only just gotten his body to calm down. He raised his hand and gave his ear a nervous tug. In the mirror, the reflection of the inside of his lower arm flashed, revealing a row unfamiliar black markings. It looked almost like a tattoo.

Kathryn saw it, too. Four short straight black lines with one struck diagonally across the others, like old fashioned tally marks. “What’s this?” Then, her brow knitted, she turned her own wrist over. Sure enough, she wore an identical set. 

Their arms rested side by side, skin against skin. Her eyes skated along his arm, across his bare chest, and met his gaze, as if she was finally confronting the line they’d stopped short of for so many years. Her jaw slackened. The moment coiled in on itself, circling back to the way they’d woken up, tangled in each other.

His pulse spiked. “Can you really not remember anything, Kathryn?” he whispered, hoping that she knew more than she’d let on.

Kathryn wore the look of a scrub cat his sister had rescued from a hunters trap back on Dorvan. Despite their father's warning she’d never tame it and shouldn’t try, nine-year old Sekaya named the cat Chaska—star goddess—and nursed her until her matted silver-grey coat shone and her dull eyes were bright. Over and over, Chaska’s rhythmic purr seduced Sekaya into believing their fighting days were over, and then another livid scratch would appear on his sister’s hands or arms. It turned out, loving Chaska was never enough to win her wild heart; the moment she was healed, she fled. Sekaya declared herself glad the cat had returned to her roaming life, but that night Chakotay caught his sister crying.

That same expression, the cornered cat, flitted across Kathryn’s features now. She stepped back and pointed towards the bedroom. “There are clothes in the drawer and wardrobe,” she said sharply, “I’ll use the bathroom while you dress.” 

As the door clicked closed behind him, he let loose a low rumble of frustration. Finding their crew would no doubt be fraught with danger, but they had a track record of solving the impossible. This personal entanglement was new territory. If he didn't tread carefully he’d end up with worse than a scratch. 

No more wearing his heart on his sleeve.

He tugged on a pair of light tan shorts and a t-shirt, and after that looked around properly for the first time. Kathryn had scooped up the scattered clothes from the tiled floor and folded them neatly in two separate piles near the pillows. 

Chakotay padded around the bed and pulled back the curtains. The bright sunlight almost dazzled him. Squinting and raising a hand to shield his eyes, he saw the sturdy trunk of a tall palm, it’s lime-green tipped fronds tickling the azure sky, and shrubbery-lined pathways winding into lush gardens. So he and the captain had somehow ended up sharing a room, and a bed, in the Delta Quandrant's answer to Risa? There had to be a lot more to this story.

He strode out of the bedroom, determined to find out.

The living area was pleasant but unremarkable; a couple of chairs, a small table, the facilities to make whatever passed for coffee around here. He boiled the kettle, but had the feeling it was going to take a lot more than coffee to untangle this mess. Of course, they had been forced to spend nights in close proximity before. Down on that planet in the Hanon system where Maje Culluh had left them stranded. Before that on New Earth, where he’d spent sweat-soaked nights the other side of the thin barrier between their beds, praying that he hadn’t called her name on waking from yet another torrid dream.

More recently, they’d been locked together for several days in a small cell with a stone floor and one creaky, uncomfortable bed. It was ridiculous for him to sleep on the floor, she’d said, and each night of their captivity they’d crammed in close together. Come to think of it, they’d woken up with limbs entwined back then, but they had definitely remained fully clothed. He hadn't been able to get that incident off his mind for weeks. 

This time he'd _really_ spent the night with her, but couldn’t remember a damn about it.

The universe must absolutely hate him.

He sighed and tried to focus on the top priorities: Kathryn’s coffee and figuring out how to get back to _Voyager_.

On the counter was a bottle with a note alongside it, written in his own hand: “ _Make sure Kathryn uses this.”_ He unscrewed the cap and took an experimental sniff before pouring a blob of creamy lotion onto his hand. Sun screen, he guessed from the faintly medicated smell. An away mission to a climate like this would routinely include a solar damage prevention agent in the transporter filter. But who knew what had happened when they arrived here?

The next jar he picked up was labelled in Kathryn’s hand as ‘the good stuff '. Inside was another note.

_Meet Zandren in the Bohomie Bar, 13:00 hrs. Remember to relax, blend in. Don’t get caught. Don’t leave this note lying around. Remember, crew in danger of execution!_

There was a small hieroglyph next to the name of the bar, but no other explanations.

Kathryn emerged from the bedroom. “I’ve found swimwear and a few summer clothes. Nothing I recognise as mine, but I’d say it all fits. And look at this.”

She handed him a photo frame.

Then she seemed to notice his ashen expression. “What?”

He glanced from the note to the photo frame. The pictures scrolled through several shots of him and Kathryn: laughing, arm in arm, dressed brightly. In one, he stood with his arm draped around her shoulder and hers snaked around his waist, in front of a sign animated with the words ‘Welcome to Paradise Falls.” They were both smiling. 

“Paradise Falls indeed,” Kathryn muttered, glaring at the couple in the pictures as if she’d taken an instant dislike to them. Then she shot the real Chakotay an accusatory look, and rasped, “I don’t remember any of this, do you?”

“Afraid not,” he said defensively. He held up the note and pointed inside the open coffee jar. 

Kathryn almost smiled. As she read the note, though, her face fell and the frown returned deeper than ever. She flicked on the taps in the kitchenette, and then whispered into his ear, “What’s happened to our crew? Why can’t we remember?”

Her breath heated his cheek. “I don’t know," he whispered. Her hand was on his chest, a gesture she used often enough, to reassure, or soften a tough order. Now it sent a shudder through him. 

She looked at him, wide eyed, and then took an abrupt step back. “I’ll make the coffee.”

Chakotay chewed his bottom lip. This place was obviously designed to torture him.

***

After gulping a hot drink, Kathryn retreated to the bedroom. Anger and fear gnawed the pit of her stomach. Execute her crew? Why? She stared again at the strange note in her hand. None of this made an iota of sense. Who the hell was watching them?

Tension that had begun in her gut spread up through her whole body and settled in a tight knot in her forehead. She plunked herself on the edge of the bed, disoriented, as a purple haze nibbled at the edges of her vision.

She could still see Chakotay through the open door, at the sink, blurrily rinsing their coffee cups, but at the same time he was beside her, palm pressed to her shoulder. How? The room faded through inky purple to sheer, empty black. 

_He moves her hair aside, kisses her bare shoulder, once, twice, and lets his hand drift to her hip. She senses alcohol, as if she’s just finished her third glass of Antarian cider. Is this a memory? Fantasy? An alternative reality crossing into theirs?_

_Impressions chase one after another: his lips, hands, on her breasts, belly, and lower. His bare chest close to hers. They are kissing, long and hard, falling together, tangled in one another. Her breath snatches. Images kaleidoscope, her vision shatters, her head crackles. She raises a hand to her temple, and gasps, “Chakotay.”_

“Yes?”

He stood in front of her, leaning in with a slight frown. “Kathryn? Are you alright? Kathryn?”

“Oh,” she managed, as her vision cleared. The room was bright. There was no alcohol. Chakotay wasn’t kissing her neck.

He put a hand to her forehead. “You’re awfully hot.”

“I felt a little faint for a moment. I’m alright now.” She made an effort to breathe normally and focus on the room around her. 

Chakotay perched on the bed. “Are you sure? Paradise Falls must have a medical facility. I could—”

Kathryn shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I just…” The impression of that kiss made avoid his curious gaze.

Her head span. Here they were, apparently posing as lovers in some elaborate plot, their memories full of holes. How deep did this deception go? She might have lost her memory, but she hadn’t lost her mind. She wouldn’t have slept with her first officer simply to prove a point! This morning’s predicament _must_ have been part of their cover.

But if that was the case, what had just swept through her like a tidal wave? Had those events ever happened? What was real and what was not?

It didn’t matter. Her crew needed her. She squinted at Chakotay, patting his knee briefly. 

He gave an awkward kind of nod, as if he had no idea how to navigate the strangeness between them. He quickly got up. “Let’s get out in the sunshine,” he said, and strode towards the door.

### ***

Chakotay’s knee blazed where Kathryn had touched him, and his belly fluttered. So much for playing cool. He opened the front door, feigning interest in the access and security mechanisms. A small panel sat to the left of the door, probably a biometric interface. Experimentally, he placed his hand against it. The screen lit up with the words “Welcome back, Charlie.”

Kathryn joined him, her face still an unsettling shade of red. 

“We don’t want to be locked out later,” he mumbled, avoiding her sharp gaze. She pressed her hand to the panel. It greeted her with a jaunty, “Welcome back, Kathy,” 

“Let’s go,” she commanded. That was fine with him. He preferred the all-business Janeway right now. At least he knew where he stood with the captain.

Their accommodation was in a row of small bungalows, with steps rising from a stone-set pathway up to their door. To the left and right were more of the same glass fronted rooms, most with privacy curtains still closed. They had chosen well, away from the hustle of the resort. Nice enough place for a holiday, but this was no restful shore leave. His shoulders felt tight with tension, and a knot in Kathryn’s brow telegraphed her concern.

After a short walk along the pathway they reached a stretch of beach where a turquoise ocean kissed silver sands. The air was warm, the sky a glorious, cloudless blue. It reminded him a little of New Earth, minus the beach, of course. There, without the burden of command, they had slipped into a different relationship, sharing their plans over breakfast and recounting their days over dinner. The outdoors lifestyle had added colour to Kathryn in more ways than one. Her complexion had deepened from a pale rose tint and her freckles became more pronounced, and as the days grew into weeks, her whole demeanor shifted, until she was talking about camping and bathing in the river with an impish sparkle in her eyes. If they’d just had a few more days…

No. There was little point revisiting  _ that _ old wound. They’d made their choice. Duty first. And judging by Kathryn’s response this morning, nothing had changed. Whatever went on last night, well, that was an aberration they’d have to come to terms with. It should be easy to put something they couldn’t even remember behind them. Shouldn’t it?

They walked on towards a pool and a glass-fronted building that seemed to be a dining hall, where men and women in grey and purple uniforms were serving breakfast. Chakotay’s stomach rumbled. How often did Kathryn stop to eat breakfast these days?

He was so lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice a young woman in a flowery dress strolling along the beach towards them. The woman had long, tubular tendrils in place of hair, pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her nose was flatter than a human’s. Chakotay didn’t recognise her species. 

“Good morning Kathy, Charlie,” she said, smiling. “Quite a night last night, eh?”

“Was it?” Kathryn said, and Chakotay realised she had been absorbed in thinking, too. The young woman frowned.

Gathering his wits, Chakotay gave a broad grin. “We certainly won’t forget it in a hurry.” Kathryn turned and stared. “Will we, love?” He nudged her gently with his shoulder. 

Kathryn caught on. “Yes, yes. Quite a night.”

Apparently satisfied, the woman smiled and nodded back towards the building she’d just left. “Breakfast was lovely again this morning. Look, I’ve got to dash. Phrell is waiting for me. But maybe we’ll see you at the rock pools?”

“That would be lovely,” Kathryn said to the woman’s disappearing form, as her purple tipped tendrils bounced against her back. Kathryn turned to Chakotay. “I wonder what that was all about?”

“Can’t wait to find out,” Chakotay said dryly. “Looks like breakfast in that building. I don’t know about you, but I hate a mystery on an empty stomach. Coming?”

Kathryn shrugged, and they made their way through the glass fronted doors into the food hall.

Tempting smells wafted from exotic foodstuffs on trays and platters, and although it looked like the first flush of guests had eaten their fill and left, plenty of dishes remained. The remaining diners were a mixed bunch. Probably at least half were of the same origin as the staff members and their young acquaintance from earlier, but several other unknown races were scattered around. That disturbed him. How far off their path home had they strayed? Just how long had they been away from _Voyager_?

Kathryn squinted at the food in just the same way she’d looked at the picture. Apparently annoyed and suspicious was her default mode this morning. He ignored her scowl and loaded a plate with what looked like eggs and some bright green vegetables that might have been mushrooms. Then he chose a table in the corner of the dining hall. Kathryn took an inordinate amount of time to select coffee and a small bowl of fruit, and eventually sat down in front of him. They began to eat in silence. 

How to break the ice slowly forming between them? Should he comment on the beautiful beach? Speculate about where  _ Voyager _ was, or on the mysterious Zandren? Perhaps he should use Kathryn's rank to demonstrate that as far as he was concerned, they remained on a professional footing, no matter what had happened last night. Would that thaw her chilly mood? He definitely wouldn’t broach the incendiary topic of the way they’d woken up together. Not ever.

Kathryn sighed and, with her fruit barely touched, put down her spoon. She stared him straight in the eye. “So, do you think we had sex last night?”

Chakotay almost spat out his tea. “I don’t know,” he spluttered, before he found the wit to crack back with, “Do  _ you  _ think we did?”

“I suspect…” Kathryn pursed her lips for a moment, before she went on, “whatever did or didn’t happen last night was part of this subterfuge.”

Chakotay plonked his cup down so hard tea slopped over the side. “Look, Kathryn, I don’t think we’d go that far for anyone else's benefit. Isn’t it more likely we just…” His throat tightened. The silence felt like a cliff-edge. He took a breath and continued, “perhaps we  _ wanted _ to sleep together.”

Kathryn narrowed her eyes. “You’re suggesting we found ourselves here on this paradise planet and ignored our responsibilities?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand. “I’d say we should forget what happened, but it seems we already have. Perhaps that’s a blessing.”

“ _That’s_ how you want to deal with this? Pretend nothing happened?” Chakotay snapped, not even trying to hide his chagrin. She had a point, but honestly, how could she just brush this off?

“We don’t  _ know _ what happened,” she retorted, with the look of the cornered cat again. “What happened last night isn’t the most important thing here. Getting back to  _ Voyager _ is. We just have to be convincing enough to make sure we’re not caught.”

Chakotay folded his arms. Alright. If that’s the way she wanted to play it, he could fake it with the best of them.


	2. Bluffing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay and Kathryn discover more about their strange situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little JC Easter weekend treat!

Her heart sinking, Kathryn watched Chakotay's as eyes hardened. Damn _. Damn it to hell._ She’d thought relegating this morning's strange entanglement to the pile of problems _to_ _deal with later_ would make things easier. Instead, she’d hurt him. 

Of course they’d fallen out before; over the Borg; when he’d brought her back from the brink over the  _ Equinox _ . And he hadn’t quite been able to hide his blistering resentment of Kashyk, but she hadn’t seen Chakotay like this—with his face set in stone—since that first day on her bridge when he hadn’t known which way the tottering house of cards would tumble.

What a god awful mess. 

Then, with a smirk forming at the corner of his lips, Chakotay waved his finger at her untouched bowl of fruit. “You can’t live on coffee,  _ darling _ .” 

The unexpected endearment jolted her. Of course. This was Chakotay. He was taking her at her word: ensuring they wouldn't blow their dubious cover. So much for her grand plan of seizing control of this story.

“You’re right,” she said stiffly, and managed to raise a small smile while she nibbled halfheartedly at the fruit.

After breakfast they scouted out the resort. “We need to find this Bohomie Bar and Zandren,” she said as they emerged into the sunshine. The day’s heat had begun to build, and with it the crowds: a scattering of family groups with older children, but mainly smiling couples, holding hands, meandering to the resort’s beaches and pools.

As they explored the complex, they found an info-wall, and touched the screen, which prompted them with a loud ‘ _Please_ _select language’._

Although she’d had no problem understanding anyone so far, as the screen began to fill, she couldn’t understand the written text.

“Can we get a map?” Kathryn wondered.

Chakotay pressed what she supposed was a navigation symbol, and a schematic of the resort appeared. It was easy to spot the pools and larger restaurants, but the Bohomie bar was a smaller place, right at the far edge of the map.

“Aha! There.” Located at the foot of the resort’s mountain, the tiny bar seemed an unlikely place to resolve this mystery. But it was the only clue they had. Chakotay ran his finger across the screen, tracing a route through the sprawling complex. Then he looked up, scanned the gardens, and pointed to a redbrick path lined with low leafy shrubs and bushes bursting with small orange flowers. “We need to go that way.” A moment later, he proffered his arm, no doubt in the interest of blending in with the other happy couples. “Shall we?”

She hesitated. Despite her resolution to focus on the job—finding  _ Voyager _ —the still-vivid memory of him kissing her neck made her flush with heat. Chakotay glanced up, with the slight hint, she fancied, of a challenge in his eyes. She’d set the parameters:  _ convincing enough to make sure we’re not caught.  _ All that mattered was her crew's safety. If that meant tip toeing the line with Chakotay, then so be it.

She linked her arm through his and they set off down the perfect flower-lined pathway.

The Bohomie bar, when they found it, offered a fine view of the silver-topped peak, which, in other circumstances, Kathryn might have appreciated. Right now, however, her crowded-out brain wanted one thing: answers.

Inside the darkened bar, a lone member of staff darted between tables, setting cutlery and mats, and arranging menus. She looked up, frowned and hurried over. “You can’t be here now,” she hissed. “Come back at lunch time!”

“Are you Zandren?”

She grimaced. “Another memory flop, huh?”

“A what?”

“Woke up with no memories of how you got here?”

Kathryn distrusted people who answered a question with a question, a tactic beloved of every interrogator she’d ever met. Nonetheless, she took a breath and said politely, “I’m afraid we don’t understand what’s going on. Can you tell us—”

“Look. Just trust me. Come back at thirteen hundred, like we arranged. You must have gotten your note to have found me.” 

Kathryn planted her feet. “Not good enough. We need to know what’s going on. Why can't we remember what's happened to our crew?” 

“Your memories have been shredded, probably when the neural harmonic technology disabled your ship."

“What?”

“It’s similar to the tech the senate uses to manipulate what guests remember after they leave. They edit out the exploitation and poverty. Look, I don’t know how you two escaped, but if you want to save your crew,” Zandren looked sharply over her shoulder, towards the kitchen, “please, trust me and go and blend in. Relax. You said you could do with a break.”

“I did?”

“Hop it, Captain,” the woman muttered, and then she returned to setting tables.

Kathryn remained in situ, hands on her hips, until Chakotay slipped his arm around her shoulders and manoeuvred her away from the bar.

“What are we supposed to do now?” she asked, jerking away from his arm. This really was too much. She needed answers. 

Chakotay narrowed his eyes. “You heard the lady. Blend in.” He shrugged and started off down one of the pathways. “You said you found swimwear back at the apartment. It’s a good opportunity for a dip in one of those pools.”

Kathryn glared at him. He seemed to be a little too keen to go with the flow. “I don’t think—”

“Kathy,” he said, marching back until he was uncomfortably close. He whispered into her ear. “We need to gather intelligence while keeping a low profile. We can talk to people, find out what’s going on.”

He stepped back and offered her his arm, clearly enjoying this way too much. 

She shook her head at the irony. She’d spent years fighting to maintain the boundaries between them. And all the available evidence pointed to what? A few balmy days of sand and sun and they’d fallen into each other's arms? How infuriating that she couldn’t remember! No, no, it was a blessing. At least she could retain the illusion of captainly dignity. Bluffing was her best bet. 

“I do like to swim,” she said, taking his arm.

If he wanted to fake it, she’d give as good as she got. 

***

After the awkwardness of finding and changing into beachwear back at their apartment, Kathryn found herself by the pool wearing a skimpy two-piece bathing suit. Chakotay stood a few meters away, wearing slim fitting tanks and surveying the pool and their fellow tourists. Despite herself, she couldn’t resist a quick glance.  _ Who _ had chosen these swimsuits?

She forced her attention away from her scantily-clad first officer. Surrounded by sun loungers shaded by palm-fringed umbrellas and a scattering of tables, the pool surpassed anything the holodeck could create. Oh, the holodeck was a fine refuge from the rigours of space travel, but at the back of her mind she always knew she was in an artificial environment. Here, the air was fresh, and the guests drinking coffee or cocktails were real, living people. 

Kathryn wandered to the edge of the pool, admiring the illusion of water crashing into the ocean below. Beyond the shore, three islands jutted from the calm waters. For a moment she lost herself in the spectacular view.

She became aware of Chakotay standing beside her, his bronzed chest bare, shoulders broad and firm. As she'd noticed when they woke, his arms had a boxer’s cut, toned and strong. He must work out more than she knew. 

“Beautiful view,” he said, his voice deep and melodious. 

“Very attractive,” she replied, uncertain if she meant the water falling, the feelings stirring, or the magnetic draw pulling her towards him. Suddenly,  _ bluffing _ didn’t seem such a safe bet after all. 

He kept his eyes on her face, probably to avoid making her uncomfortable by looking at her body, but his coy glance still sent her pulse soaring and the phrase 'melting under his gaze' sprang to mind. She shook her head. This wouldn't do! 

“Perhaps we should take this opportunity to have a swim?” she said. Perhaps the pool would let her work out the tension curling in her chest. 

He gave a little shrug. “A swim is a fine idea.”

Kathryn strode along the pool’s edge, looking for a set of steps, but abandoned that idea in favour of a precise dive. She sliced through the cool waters, hoping the swift strokes would occupy her body and calm her mind. Honestly, from the moment she’d woken this morning she’d felt less like a captain and more like an irritable, hormone-fuelled teenager.

***

Chakotay watched Kathryn plunge into the pool, disconcerted by her reaction to their mystifying situation. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being on an emotional roller-coaster, because he didn’t know which way was up himself. One minute she seemed embarrassed to speak, the next she dropped a bombshell, speculating about whether or not they’d had sex. Not that he would mind discussing their newly-found intimacy, if he thought they were on the same page.

But, clearly, she’d decided to dodge the issue. Fair enough. He could wait. But he wasn’t going to let her wiggle out of this forever. When they got back to  _ Voyager…  _ He scratched his chin.  _ Voyager.  _ The last thing he remembered the ship had hit a temporal anomaly, interrupting him and Kathryn having dinner. He’d spent hours reintegrating the shattered time zones, with help from a fresh-face Captain Janeway. He had to admit, once she decided to trust him, things between him and the pre-Delta Quadrant Janeway had fizzed along nicely. He’d been a little sorry to say goodbye. Then he’d gotten back to the bridge and resumed dinner with his Kathryn. Things got a little hazy after that. What the hell had happened?

Chakotay always found the best way to shake off anything, from malaise to tension to outright fury, was movement and action; boxing, running, joining the Maquis, had all been ways of dealing with pain. He figured the same remedy would help now. Maybe give him some badly needed perspective. 

Following Kathryn’s lead, he dove into the water. The pool chilled him at first contact, but as he swam, the soothing rhythm made it easier to put his complicated feelings aside. He decided to swim fifty laps, so at least he would have achieved something worthwhile this morning. He emptied his mind and swam.

As the final four of his fifty approached, he pushed his pace upwards, until nothing existed but air, water, air, water, air, water. His lungs screamed. He grabbed the pool end, a small sense of victory filling his body. After a couple of lengths to cool-down he pulled himself out of the pool and puffed his way to a seat in the shade.

Kathryn was still swimming at a chipper pace, arm over arm through the water. He was sure his style had been nowhere near as graceful. Perhaps she used the holodeck swimming programme to keep her stamina up. He resolved to ask her later. At least that should be a relatively safe topic.

She pulled her final strokes at startling speed, and then clung, panting, to the end of the pool. How like Kathryn to push herself to extremes.

She hauled herself out of the water, and, still red-faced, blowing hard, grabbed one of the beach towels they’d been handed when they arrived at the pool. She wrapped it around herself and plonked herself down in the chair opposite.

“You got up a pretty good pace,” Chakotay observed. “Been using your holodeck time for swimming?”

“No. Nice idea though.” She waved a hand towards the edge of the infinity pool, and out to sea. “We could recreate this place when we get back.”

“I’d enjoy a change from running the lower decks.”

Her eyes settled briefly on his chest. “How often do you run?” 

“Not as often as I should,” he admitted. “It’s hard to get motivated on your own.”

She opened her lips, as if she was about to say something, but instead sighed, sat back in her chair, and scanned the pool area. “I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. I’d prefer to be doing something.”

“We  _ are _ doing something,” he said firmly. “Blending in.” When she didn’t look particularly satisfied with that answer, he shook his head in amusement. 

“Something funny?”

“You really have forgotten how to relax, haven’t you.”

“I can relax!” 

“Really? When was the last time you did something just for you? Visited Leonardo in his workshop, for example?”

“Well.” She narrowed her eyes with a smile that seemed dangerously close to a smirk. “I rather enjoyed Fairhaven.”

Chakotay snorted. “Less said about Fairhaven the better.” He understood the pressures that had driven her into Michael Sullivan’s arms. He’d even gritted his teeth and encouraged her, although thinking of her with the Irishman, hologram or not, had given him a restless night or three.

Her top lip twitched. “You suggested that you enjoy holographic companionship at times yourself. I’m a starship captain, not a nun.”

He almost choked. 

She shot him a sideways glance. “You  _ did _ ask.”

“I suppose I did. I have to admit, I find spending my time with living, breathing people more satisfying.”

She sighed. “I can’t argue with that.” Kathryn scooped up the drinks list from the table, effectively closing the topic. “How is it that we can read this and understand people, without our comm badges?”

Chakotay didn’t have a half-way decent explanation. “Another mystery.” There were so many things around here he didn’t understand, most of which were beyond his control. His eyes settled on the bottle of sun lotion on the table. Preventing sun damage, at least, he could manage. “You should probably get some of this on.”

She opened her mouth to object, and then put her hand to her shoulder. “You’re right. Don’t want to get burned when there’s no doctor to fix it.”

Chakotay shook his head, leaned in and said quietly, “Wrong attitude. You should aim for never getting burned  _ at all _ .”

“Are you accusing me of recklessness, Commander?”

“Only when you’re awake.”

“Then it’s a good job I have you to keep me in line,” she said, her eyes sparkling with a flirtiness he’d almost forgotten she was capable of.

He chuckled, met her smiling eyes, and for the first time since they’d woken up, he relaxed. Faking might turn out to be fun after all.

She squeezed a blob of creamy lotion on her hand and smeared it on her arms. Then she tried to reach between her shoulder blades.

In a fit of mischievousness, Chakotay leaned closer. “Need help?”

She gaped and glanced around before she regained her composure. “Thank you.”

As she passed him the bottle, their hands brushed. 

He let lotion fall from the bottle onto his palm. This might be a monumentally bad idea, but he had no intention of backing down unless she warned him off. Which she could do with a single glance. 

She didn’t. With a barely detectable intake of breath, she turned her back, offering her freckled skin to him. 

He paused, anticipating the sensation of her skin under his fingers. On  _ Voyager  _ she touched him frequently and with impunity. Admittedly, not his  _ bare _ skin as he was about to touch her, but she put her hand on his chest, his arm, even his leg, and she did it on the bridge, in the briefing room, in the mess hall. When he thought about it, the list went on and he  _ never _ responded in kind.

She turned her head just a little to the left, as if perplexed by his hesitation. 

He took a breath, inched the straps of her swimsuit aside. He worked the lotion into her shoulders, tentatively at first and then with surer strokes against her soft skin. He’d massaged her shoulders before, during those heady months of freedom on New Earth. Through her clothes, of course, not her bare skin. Back then he’d felt her unwind beneath his fingers and for a moment, he’d thought her resolve would crumble. But even though the heat between them had been palpable, she’d knocked him back. He’d saved face by sharing an ancient legend, but that wasn’t what was in his heart. He’d wanted much more from her—everything if she’d been willing to give it. 

As his thumbs traced the bumps of her spine, his head began to throb. He tried to blink away a blurry patch in his vision. Had she turned to face him? No. He was still rubbing her back. And yet...

_ They are in her quarters on Voyager, face to face. She’s wearing her uniform, with a decidedly wry look. “Still not going to let on what really happened today?” _

_ “I told you, you’re not going to wheedle it out of me.”  _

_ “Oh?” She looks up at him, with the hint of the flirtiness that occasionally still slips into their relationship, even after the Borg and the Equinox and seven years of the Delta Quadrant throwing wedges between them.  _

_ “You can’t stand not knowing, can you?” He shakes his head, puts down a bottle he’s been holding, and adds with a grin, “Temporal Prime Directive.” _

_ She gives an inscrutable kind of laugh. “So. It’s about time, is it?”  _

_ Her eyes never leave his. She's standing so close. He’s no longer sure she’s talking about today's adventure.  _

_ “There’s a saying among my people,” he whispers. “‘There's a time to run and a time to stand your ground. Wisdom is knowing the difference.’” _

_ She moves closer, her hand delicately resting on his chest. “And what do we do now?” she whispers. “Run or stand our ground?” _

_ “That’s up to you. It’s always been up to you,” he tells her, heart filled with a hope he’d hardly let himself feel for years. _

_ She brings her hand up to his face. Her eyes are clear, decisive, as if the choice is already made. “I think we’ve spent enough time running.”  _

_ She is in his arms, soft and pliant, and her lips are moments from his, and he wants her more now than he ever has, and—  _

Her voice shatters the soft, perfect world he’d found himself in. “Chakotay?”

He jerked his hands off- her shoulders. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

She turned her face towards him. “On  _ Voyager _ ?” she asks, surprised. “I think we were having dinner. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Whatever that had been—memory, dream, desire, those vivid images had felt spectacularly out of the ordinary to him. Suddenly, he was seized by a desire to kiss the freckles scattered across her shoulders.

He cleared his throat, looking for an escape. “Um. What would you like to drink?” 

“Surprise me,” she said, her eyes showing her uncertainty.

He walked swiftly to the bar.

He was greeted by a member of the ever-smiling, purple uniformed Paradise Falls staff team. Errym, according to her name tag. 

“Good morning, Charlie,” she said with an amused grin. “Did you sleep well?”

Chakotay was a little taken aback, not only by the personalised greeting but also at the inquiry into his sleep. What did this Errym know, or suspect? Was she one of the people watching them?

“I slept very well, thank you,” he offered with a wry smile.

Errym nodded, grinning. “You and Kathy must have been exhausted after all that shamboaling last night. She’s quite a mover.”

He hoped his grin covered his bewilderment. “She certainly is.”

“Your usual?” Errym didn’t wait for an answer before she set two tall glasses on the bar, filling one with a fizzing orange liquid, and layering the second with a purple cordial and then a bright green liquid. She took the last slice of citrix from a plate and popped it on the side of the first drink. “Hold on,” she said, and disappeared into the back of the bar.

Chakotay let his eyes drift while he waited. Shamboaling? What had he and Kathryn been up to last night?

A young couple had joined Kathryn at their table, one of them the woman they’d met on the beach. The man, holding a small recording device like the one the Doctor used to capture holoimages, only much smaller and flatter, soon wandered off towards the edge of the infinity pool, snapping images of the three islands in the ocean beyond the resort. Then he turned towards the mountain and took a few more, before ambling back to the table and sitting down with Kathryn and his companion.

When Errym hadn’t returned after a few minutes, Chakotay refocused on the bar. Errym stood at the back, her smile gone, deep in conversation with a man in grey trousers and a white shirt, who towered over her. Judging by the anxious frown on her face, she didn’t appreciate his manner, and when he grabbed her arm, Chakotay’s hackles rose. Errym managed an uneasy smile, nodded, and hurried back to the bar.

“What was that all about?” Chakotay asked, the hairs on the back of his neck still standing up.

“Oh, nothing,” the broad smile re-appeared on her face. “I just have to work a few extra shifts, that’s all. It’s not a problem.”

Chakotay wasn’t so sure. He’d often had to schedule extra shifts for unwilling crew members, but he’d never resorted to intimidation. When he returned to the table, Kathryn, still in conversation with the young woman, looked up with what he recognised as a low-key warning look. He smiled at the couple, who he had the distinct feeling he should know.

Kathryn waved an airy hand. “Gigete and Phrell were just reminding me of all the fun we had last night.”

Chakotay grinned as he put the drinks on the table. “That shamboaling was quite something, eh?”

Kathryn cast a quizzical eye in his direction. It felt childishly satisfying to have the upper hand.

Gigete smirked at Kathryn. “You put us to shame. Where did you learn?”

“Oh, I’m a woman of many talents,” Kathryn said vaguely, sipping her drink. 

“No, really, you looked like you’d done something like that before.”

Now Chakotay was really curious. What was shamboaling? Some kind of game? A dance? That Kathryn was good at it didn’t surprise him. She seemed able to turn her hand to most things. Well, except cooking. 

Kathryn continued her vague approach. “Ah, I’ve been around the block a few times.”

Chakotay nodded at Phrell’s device on the table. “Did you take any snaps last night? We’d love to see.”

Gigete scoffed. “Of course he did.”

Phrell’s face lit up. He activated a screen, which at first appeared to show a news feed, but quickly switched to images. He scrolled to a picture of all four of them eating dinner, taken by someone else, presumably. Obviously they had spent time with this couple. Awkward. It would be easy to slip up given their memory lapse. 

Phrell had a good eye, Chakotay noticed, as all the pictures were carefully framed and clearly focused. Kathryn and Gigete dancing in a crush of happy faces. One picture captured Gigete in mid laugh, with her blue dress swirling in a perfect arc. There were other shots, too, of he and Kathryn dancing. One in particular caught his attention. Kathryn held his fingertips at the end of his outstretched arm, and he imagined moments later she would spin back into his embrace. They were both smiling. It looked like they were having more fun than they had during the last three years on  _ Voyager _ . 

He looked up at Kathryn, trying to gauge her reaction to these pictures, but her expression gave little away. 

“I do love to dance,” she said, nodding, firmly in role as the happy honeymooner.

True enough. She’d danced an elegant ballet number, a long time ago on a  _ Voyager  _ talent night, and they had danced together more than once during diplomatic receptions or in the midst of trade negotiations. All of that was ancient history now. Why did moments like that stop?

“What about you two?” Kathryn asked Gigete. “How did you like the shamboaling?”

Phrell shook his head. “Well, as you probably noticed last night was my first time.”

“And your last, if you moaning about your sore feet is anything to go by,” Gigete added. 

Kathryn looked out to sea and didn’t say anything else, her fingers tap, tapping on the table, a definite sign she was thinking too hard.

Chakotay put his hand over Kathryn’s, as much to stop her fidgeting as anything else. Hoping to glean some useful information and divert attention from her odd mood, Chakotay nodded at Phrell’s device. “Anything interesting on the news-feeds?”

Gigete looked up sharply. “Local election results were interesting. The colony leader, Quadesh Manakaski has stormed to another election victory in the senate.” She leaned forward before she continued. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”

Kathryn sat up a little straighter, too. “I’m not quite sure what to think of it. You probably know more about local politics than us.”

“Well, I think it’s strange. On the face of it, he’s not exactly making decisions that should appeal to many people. In fact, some of his policies run against the interests of the majority. But the way the news outlets tell it, he’s everyone's champion.”

“And that bothers you?” Kathryn said.

“Put it this way, I’d like to understand it better,” Gigete said. She shot a probing look first at Kathryn and then at him. “What do you two think of Paradise Falls?”

Kathryn offered a diplomat's smile, “Perfect place for a honeymoon,” she said, glancing at Chakotay. “It’s very peaceful.”

Chakotay nodded, but the irony was heavy. This was the most unsettling bit of shoreleave he’d had in a good long while.

Kathryn redirected her gaze to Gigete and Phrell. “So, what are your plans for the day?” 

“We’re going to hike to the waterfall. Have you been yet? They say it’s beautiful. You can swim there too.”

“Sounds terrific,” Chakotay said, moving his hand away from Kathryn’s, which, he noted with irritation, she immediately moved onto her lap and clenched into a fist. 

Gigete stood up. “Well, we should get going, darling,” she said, giving Phrell a nudge.

“Oh, yeah. Catch you later, shamboala champs.” He shot a goofy grin at Kathryn, clasped Gigete’s hand, and they left.

Chakotay watched them with more than a little envy as they ambled away. Dance. Fall in love. Dance some more. Some days, he longed for a straightforward life.

The great complicator of his world, Kathryn Janeway, sat staring into the distance.

Attempting to draw her back from where-ever she’d drifted off to, he said, “So. shamboaling, eh?” Kathryn winced, and then immediately covered her reaction with a short laugh. Chakotay wasn’t fooled. He leaned towards her. “Do you...do you remember something about last night?”

“No.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you?”

"No." He sighed, unwilling to reveal the images he'd just experienced until he understood a bit more. If he was any judge of her flinty expression, last night’s shamboaling was off-limits, so he hauled his attention back to their present conundrum. “At the bar I noticed our friendly server over there, Errym, who we apparently also know well, being intimidated by her boss.”

At that, Kathryn sat forward, her eyes sparking. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Hmmm. I don’t think we can take anything at face value around here.”

“Agreed.” Kathryn tapped her fingers on the table. “We need to make a plan. And to make a plan we need—”

“More coffee?” Chakotay suggested.

“You read my mind.”

He snorted. “Doesn’t take a genius.” He picked up their cups. Judging by her agitated mood, the beverage hadn’t been a close enough approximation of caffeine to give her a good fix. He sighed and rubbed his fingers wearily across his temple. 

Even the  _ drinks _ were dishonest around here.


	3. Kathy, Kathryn, Captain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay and Kathryn meet their contact at the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shortish chapter today ahead of a longer one on Weds! Thanks for reading and commenting!

Kathryn’s morning crept by slower than a double shift scrubbing plasma pipes, and unlike that unwelcome duty, produced nothing useful. She and Chakotay ended an exasperating tour of the resort back at the Bohomie Bar, to find Zandren busy waiting tables. On spotting them, she diverted from her course and steered them briskly to empty seats far from other patrons.

With a plastered on smile, Zandren thrust a menu into Kathryn’s hands. “What can I get you?”

Kathryn made a brief show of studying the list. “I’ll have a large portion of who are you, a serving of where are we, and a side order of what the hell is going on,” she said, barely glancing up at Zandren.

The woman’s shoulders fell slightly. “Really? You remember nothing this time? Fek.” She flicked the corner of the menu. “Read this.”

The text on the food list changed.

_ You are Captain Kathryn Janeway and Commander Chakotay of the Federation Starship Voyager, posing as a honeymoon couple Kathy and Charles Kotay. Your crew is still aboard in stasis, detained on charges of entering Thyopian space without a warrant of travel. Fek knows how you escaped the stasis sweep. Knowing you, you'll have many more questions I don’t have time to answer, so don’t harangue me! _

_ I’ll say it again: Take care! This place may seem like paradise, but it’s rotten to the core. _

Kathryn passed the menu to Chakotay, and then opened her mouth to speak but Zandren interjected, “The saltash soup is excellent.” She gestured to Chakotay. “It’s vegetarian.”

Chakotay looked up. “I guess you do know us.”

Kathryn yanked up the straps on her flimsy top, which repeatedly fell off one shoulder. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

Zandren narrowed her eyes and jabbed her finger at the bottom of the flexible polymer film on the menu. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.” She hurried back towards the kitchen.

At the bottom of the fake menu was a tally mark. Four upright lines and one scored diagonally across, and the words:

_ This is the fifth time we’ve had this conversation. Check inside your wrists. _

Chakotay turned his wrist over. Sure enough, the marks matched those on the sheet.

“What do you think?” Kathryn asked, running her fingers across the lines on the soft part of his wrist.

“Seems like something I’d dream up. In my tribe, we mark our bodies in various ways. To show respect. Unity. Affection.” 

His skin was warm, and she imagined—and she must have imagined it, for her touch was so light—that she felt his heart pulsing. 

Slowly, he shifted his hand until her three fingers nestled in the middle of his palm. After a moment where she could have withdrawn her hand, but didn’t, he curled his fingers around hers, as if to connect them by something deeper than duty, or express some unnameable need. The memory of his skin against hers surged back, real and raw. Her jaw slackened, her face flushed hot.  _ Had  _ they crossed the line last night? Every instinct screamed it must be so, while her rational brain still wanted to explain it all away.

“Kathryn?”

She increased the pressure against his palm, as if holding his hand harder could convey her jumbled thoughts.

He smiled, gently rubbing his thumb across her fingers as if he somehow understood.

At that moment, in a timing worthy of Tuvok, Zandren returned to the table. 

“Made a decision?” Zandren asked.

Kathryn withdrew her hand from Chakotay's. “I wouldn’t go that far. But we like what you’re offering.”

“So, the saltash soup, then,” Zandren said dryly.

Kathryn leaned forward. “We need more than soup. Where’s my ship?”

Zandren spoke sharply as she set the soup on their place mats. “At Grashet space dock. The trial starts in three days.”

“Trial?” Chakotay echoed.

The waitress snorted. “They call it that. Your crew is as good as convicted.”

“Of what?” Kathryn said, incredulously.

Zandren shrugged. “Being in the wrong place.”

“And the likely sentence?” Nausea clawed at Kathryn’s stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Zandren said, avoiding Kathryn’s eyes. “Justice here is a joke. The senate manipulates our home world into thinking everything is fair and fine. People go missing all the time, especially those who challenge the governor, Quadesh Manakaski. Most of us barely make ends meet, while the colony wealth ends up Goddess knows where. Stray ships never fare well, I'm afraid.”

Kathryn opened her mouth with a barrage of questions, but Zandren stopped her by slipping a note into her hand.

“I’ve gotten you onto the guest list for the Rotarian Dance uptown tonight. Did you get the clothes?”

“Clothes?” Kathryn said, “Well there’s evening wear in the apartment, but—”

“Good. Tonight, make contact with Yingon. He’ll be waitering, but he also works security at the space dock. He’ll have a plan to get you back to your ship.” Zandren glanced over her shoulder. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to meet with Doc Poxet to get your memories fixed. Come here at oh nine hundred."

Zandren turned to leave, but Kathryn grabbed her arm. “Why are you helping us?”

She bent forward, making a show of rearranging the salt and pepper. “Because when you get out of here, you’re taking me with you. And I’m blowing the lid off this whole corrupt set up.”

“I agreed to that, did I?”

“More than once.” Zandren snapped back up. “Don’t blow your cover,  _ Kathy _ .” Then she whirled around and was gone.

Chakotay watched her go. “What do you think,  _ Kathy _ ? Do you trust her?” he asked.

Kathryn frowned, adjusting the skimpy strap on her top for the umpteenth time that day. “I don’t see we have a choice.” She leaned in. “And this ‘Kathy’ is starting to annoy me. Making deals and choosing ridiculous clothes.” She huffed, crossed her arms, and sat back.

He pursed his lips, as if subduing a smile. 

“What?” she snapped.

He raised his spoon full of soup, but paused and said, “Look, we’re both worried about the crew. But we have a solid plan. I don’t see any other option but to relax and go along with it.” Besides,” he grinned a little, “This casual look suits you.”

“What are you saying?” she huffed. “You want less _Captain Janeway_ and more _Kathy_ _Kotay?_ Are you saying that because you think you slept with Kathy Kotay?"

He sighed as the accusation hung in the air. Then he leaned in. “Kathy, Kathryn, Captain. I’m not sure who I went to bed with last night. But I do know I’ll still carry her burdens, no matter what.”

Kathryn watched him as he ate his soup, this man she trusted with her life, her ship, her crew. His judgement was sound, his counsel wise, his professionalism without question: just as a first officer should be. But he was so much more. He was a builder of bathtubs, carver of headboards and planner of boats, who had given her a rose when she’d stared down death, and still brought her soup at the end of a long shift.

She’d never survive the Delta Quadrant without him at her side. Why did she keep pushing him away?

She leaned in, touched his hand, and said softly, "Chakotay. Kathryn knows."


	4. Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn and Chakotay attend a grand ball to meet their contact. As ever, nothing really goes according to plan.

As the sun fell, the shops lit up and music began pouring from the bars in a rising rhythm. The balmy evening reminded Kathryn of nights spent wandering the uptown area of New Frisco, except the people here were far from the eclectic mix of starfleet and locals of Frisco. In fact, Kathryn hadn’t been among such a bustle of beautiful people since her thirtieth birthday, when Mark had splurged on tickets to see La Traviata at the grand Italian opera house  _ Teatro alla Scala _ . That night, a lifetime ago, beneath an arch of blushing bougainvillea, he’d blindsided her by proposing. It was funny to remember him now, for she hadn’t thought of Mark in a long time. After the whiplash of discovering he’d gotten married six months after  _ Voyager _ had been declared lost she’d imprisoned his memory in a dark vault, telling herself she understood what he’d done and why he’d done it. But she had wondered, in her bleaker moments, if she was really that forgettable.

Tonight, the bushes lining the walkways burst with orange flowers, spilling their spicy scent onto the breeze, and as always, Chakotay was a palpable presence at her side. It really was the perfect place for a romantic evening. If she wasn’t so desperately worried for her crew, she might even have enjoyed it.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely registered a woman on a collision course.

Chakotay swerved them both aside. “I’m sorry,” he added graciously.

The women's full length indigo-blue dress swished and crinkled as her heels click-clacked to an abrupt stop. Bedecked in gold earrings tipped with purple teardrops and a mosaic of gems that filled the entire v of her neckline, she cast an imperious glance their way, adjusted her golden sash, and continued.

“No shortage of pomp, here.” Kathryn muttered. It was hard to believe the poverty Zandren had described could exist next to this rather arrogant display of wealth.

Ahead, a grand building dominated the street at the end of the walkway. Even from this distance they could see steps leading to a wide doorway, set among opulent archways and resplendent pillars.

Kathryn glanced at the directions in Zandren’s note. “That’s it.”

“Reminds me of the Palace of the Arts, in San Francisco,” came his soft voice as they walked towards the building. “You ever go?”

She laughed a little. “Not as often as I should have. As a cadet I was way too serious to goof off to exhibitions and shows.”

With a wistful look, he took in the building with its archways and tall pillars. “The open air performances were...memorable. As I recall, there’s an enchanting view over the lagoon at night.”

Kathryn glanced at him sideways. “Enchanting? Went there with a girl, huh?”

He laughed. “I’d never kiss and tell. But the lagoon at night really is spectacular. You’d appreciate it.”

“When we get back to Earth, we should go.”

“I’d like that,” he said, continuing to look ahead, as if he were afraid to break the spell slowly weaving around them.

“So would I,” she admitted. Suddenly, the topic felt a little precarious. She took a step back, and made a show of checking out the guests. “There’s plenty of wealth here.”

“It’s quite a contrast from the poverty Zandren described,” he said, following her lead.

When they reached the door, they paused for the attendant to search his list of names.

“Charlie and Kathy Kotay. Welcome. What do you think of Paradise Falls?”

“Enchanting,” Kathryn said softly, glancing up at Chakotay. She wasn’t sure, but she imagined she heard him snort. Who could blame him? She knew she was being capricious, but her instincts and her better judgement were entirely out of synch .  She had to stop flirting. Although, she’d been telling herself that for years and not managed it yet.

If they thought the passers-by had been finely dressed, then the Ball Room’s occupants were positively extravagant. Spectacular gowns abounded, and while Kathryn had felt overdressed when she had left the apartment, she now realised Yesterday’s Kathryn knew exactly what she was doing when she picked out her dress.

As she negotiated another set of steps down to a wide open marble-floored foyer, she wobbled in her high heeled shoes. “Damn. Give me Starfleet issue boots, any day,” she muttered.

“Hmm, boots with that dress? That I’d like to see,” Chakotay said, glancing down at her legs, returning the flirtatiousness of a few moments ago. She bit her lip. One day, they’d have to confront this fire between them, because, best intentions notwithstanding, they just couldn’t seem to stop feeding the flames. Or maybe that confrontation had already happened, and waking up like they had this morning was the result. Oh god, why was it so complicated?

“Kathy? Charlie?” Kathryn wheeled around, and dredged her memory for the young woman’s name. “Ah...Gigete. What a surprise.”

“Likewise. You didn’t mention you were coming tonight.”

“We didn’t decide ourselves until late today,” Chakotay chipped in.

“You were fortunate to get tickets. This event is usually booked weeks ahead.” Gigete’s gaze lingered on Kathryn.

She shrugged. “Lucky, I guess.”

Gigete leaned closer. “Kathy, would you object if I borrow your husband? He mentioned yesterday that he had some knowledge of archaeology, and I have a burning curiosity.”

Chakotay shot Kathyn a bemused look, and before either of them could object Gigete took his hand and tugged him onto the dance floor.

Kathryn glanced at Phrell, hovering with his ever-present photographic and comms device in his hand. What Kathryn wouldn’t give to get her own hands on  _ that _ for a short while.

“She’s certainly keen,” Kathryn noted.

“When she wants to know something, she’s a sampret.”

Kathryn shot him an enquiring look.

“Sorry. A sampret is a hunting carnivore on our home world, Liri. I forgot you weren’t from around here. Where  _ did _ you say you were from again?”

“Oh, just passing through,” Kathryn said vaguely. “I hope you’re not suggesting that my first—” she quickly corrected herself, “—husband is on the menu.”

“Oh. Does your species practice polygamy?”

“What?”

“You said first husband. Do you have others?”

“Not yet,” she said smartly, racking her brain for a topic less likely to trip her up. “Do you know anyone else here?”

“Only by reputation,” Phrell said. “There’s a few members of the senate. I expect they’re celebrating their recent ballot success.”

“Sounds like you and Gigete don’t think much of the governance around here.”

Phrell wrinkled his nose. “Do you?” Kathryn didn’t have time to answer, as Phrell went on, with simmering indignation, “I mean, look at this lot. There’s enough wealth in here to keep the whole colony afloat for a year, and yet the workers are worse off than ever. People slave at two or even three jobs just to make their rent. Barely anyone can afford healthcare. Yet the way they tell it on the news feeds, this place is affluent.”

“Paradise Falls is not the home of independent journalism, then?” Kathryn said with a wry smile.

“The senate  _ owns  _ the media,” Phrell spat. “It’s sickening.”

As he continued talking, he constantly touched and turned his device. The hairs stuck up at the back of Kathryn’s neck. Was he recording their conversation?

She looked around the room for their contact. There was no way to know which of the busy waiting staff was the person they’d been sent to meet, so she had no choice but to wait.

To her relief, Chakotay returned a few moments later. “I hope you haven't worn him out,” Kathryn said to Gigete. “I’ve been dying to dance.”

With that, she grabbed Chakotay’s hand and pulled him back onto the dance floor, ignoring his puzzled smile.

She leaned in close to talk quietly. “Phrell’s asking pointed questions. I think he’s spying on us. Did Gigete actually want to discuss archeology?”

“Not really. I think she was testing me. I’m not sure I passed. I didn't know any of the major sites in the region.”

Kathryn sighed. “Probably best if we keep away from them.”

“In that case,” he said, twirling her around and then drawing her closer, “we’ll just have to dance.”

Kathryn looked up into his eyes, her unruly heart skip, skipping. “I don’t suppose we have much choice.”

They danced, arms braced, maintaining a decent distance, taking their cue from the other guests and the stately music.

They had danced together a few times during their years on  _ Voyager _ ; on the holodeck with the crew, at trade receptions—of which there had been a fair number— but they had always remained formal. She’d been tempted, she’d admit, to let go of her reservations, especially when people around them held one another close, but that kind of dancing had seemed to lack the decorum required of a command team. Her good judgement had always got the better of her desire to hold him a little closer.

Chakotay spun her out to the end of his extended arm and then tugged her back again, a little closer each time.

“This feels… familiar,” he said, as he slipped his arm around her back. “Have we danced like this before?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, but there was a fluttering in her belly, the skitter of arousal that she’d noticed all day on and off, as if her body remembered something her mind didn’t. In the path of his intoxicating smile, old temptations felt stronger than ever. 

She let her palm pause on his chest for a beat before she dragged her eyes away and scanned the room. “I wonder where our contact is?” she said. “Shall we risk circulating?”

“Of course.” He took a step back, and turned to leave the dance floor, but not before she glimpsed his rueful smile.

As they moved among the guests, Kathryn kept a keen eye for anyone watching them—be it their mysterious contact, or a spy—until finally a member of the waiting staff caught her eye, and nodded.

Kathryn nudged Chakotay. “I think that’s him.”

A wiry man in waiter’s garb approached them. He inclined his head. “Can I offer you a drink?” he said, gesturing a tall multi-coloured drink on his tray. “Perhaps an  _ Escape From Paradise _ ?”

Kathryn accepted the glass. “We’d very much like to escape from paradise. Are you Yingon?”

He didn’t answer her question, but gave a curt nod towards a door where a young woman was entering with a tray of wine flutes. “Through those service doors and to the left there’s a store cupboard. Five minutes,” he said, and then whirled away.

“Alright,” Kathryn said, satisfied. “Now maybe we’ll get some answers.”

They studied the doors, and the moment they could make it without drawing too much attention, dashed through. The room to the left was brightly lit, filled with piles of vegetables and bags of grains or flour.

“Neelix would be in heaven,” Chakotay observed.

“I just hope no one pops in for supplies. It would be hard to explain why we’ve snuck in here.”

“True. We’d probably have to pretend…” he clearly thought better of finishing that sentence.

Kathryn had a fair idea of where he had been going. “Go on,” she prompted, running her finger over a row of jars of herbs and spices. “I should know your plan.”

He tugged his ear. “We’d have to pretend we were making out, I suppose. Like spies caught in an empty briefing room.”

She laughed. “Maquis tactics? Tell me, in your experience has that ever actually worked?”

He pursed his lips in mock indignation. “You’re not wheedling  _ that _ out of me…”

Something buzzed at her temple, like a mosquito in a jar. She gripped the shelf as a wave of dizziness hit.

He rushed to her side. “Kathryn, are you alright?”

She willed the giddiness to pass, taking a few long breaths. After a moment she straightened up. “I think so. It was like an intense wave of déjà vu.” She frowned. “Have you said something like that to me before?”

His brow wrinkled. “Maybe,” he said uncertainly. And then he raised a finger. “Yes, I think so. Do you remember us having dinner just before...what ever happened, happened?”

At that moment, the door cracked open. Kathryn tensed, as did Chakotay, and he leaned towards her, ready to put their ruse into play if anyone but Yingon stepped through the door. She pressed her hand to his chest, her heart dancing.

“I don’t have long,” a voice snapped. Yingon. “If I’m caught, I’m done, and I need this extra work. I have three kids to feed. Meet me here,” he handed them a slip of paper. Tomorrow. Make sure you’re not followed.” He turned to leave.

Kathryn read quickly.  _ Grashet Transit Centre, Level five, blue sector. Door three. Tomorrow,16:00.  _ “Wait.” She whipped around and blocked his path. “Not good enough. I need to know my ship and crew are safe.”

Yingon spun around, fire in his eyes, his voice low. “No, Captain,” he hissed. “Your ship and your crew are not safe. They were all apprehended in a harmonic stasis sweep. Your ship appeared out of nowhere. With some wild story that you’d just escaped from a temporal anomaly and didn’t know this was restricted space. It’s a miracle you got out.” He jabbed his thumb at the door. “Now get back out there, mingle and dance. If the senate’s agents suspect you’re not who you say you are, then you’ll lose a lot more than a few day’s memories.” Then he was gone.

Kathryn slammed her palm against the wall. “Damn it to hell. We’re no further forward. What was he talking about? A temporal anomaly?”

Chakotay stepped closer, frowning. “Wait. He’s right. I remember that! You probably won’t because I was the one fixing it, moving between fragmented time zones.”

“All by yourself?”

“No. I had help. From a younger version of you, as it happens.”

Kathryn squinted at him. “Go on.”

“Temporal Pri—”

“I’m in no mood for games, Commander,” Kathryn snapped, almost nose to nose with him now.

His eyes flashed. “We’ve been playing games for seven years. Why stop now?”

The door opened. 

In an instant, Chakotay drew her into a kiss.

“Oh. Um,” a bemused cook stuttered. “Guests are not…I’ll just…”

Kathryn waved him away, a little more lost in the kiss than she wanted to admit, even to herself. She barely registered the door close.

Chakotay's lips soft against hers. She didn't move. Slowly, he drew back.

Kathryn looked up and bit her lip. “So as a tactic, it does work,” she whispered.

Chakotay let his hand linger on her shoulder, looking halfway between sorry and not sorry. “We should probably get out here before he comes back with security."

“Agreed," she said softly, her tangled heart catching in her throat.

He led her out of the store room and to the dance floor. This time they were carried by the swelling beat of sultry music, the guests around them dancing slow and close.

Chakotay’s hands drifted to her waist. He drew her in. “Won’t do to stand out,” he whispered into her ear.

The rhythm drove her feet and despite her fears and misgivings, and her anxiety over  _ Voyager’s  _ fate, she found herself pressed close to him. When his hand strayed a little lower down her back than he probably intended, she didn’t object. Or perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing, and he felt as captivated as she was. Maybe this is what happened last night, and ended with them naked in the same bed.

“Are you still wondering about last night?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Frankly, I’m trying not to.” Suddenly, he tensed, gripping her hips a little tighter. “Don’t turn around, but I think we’re being watched. Three officers, on the left.” He twirled her around. Sure enough, three burly, uniformed agents moved among the finely dressed guests. Kathryn cursed.

Yingon walked briskly past them and inclined his head towards a door at the rear of the room. They stopped dancing and followed him. Yingon peered back through the glass panel.

“Who are they?” Kathryn asked.

“Senate Police. You need to get out of here.”

They tracked Yingon along the corridor. A waiter with a heavily laden tray of crystal glasses appeared through a door, blocking their path. Kathryn swerved, and would have lost her footing, but Chakotay didn’t let go of her hand, and frankly, at such a brisk pace in high shoes, his support was a blessing

“This way,” Yingon hissed. He opened a door to a kitchen area, wafting with steam and the sound of sizzling pans. The smell of richly spiced dishes filled Kathryn's nose, and the damn floor looked impossible in her ridiculous heels. But Chakotay, aware of her hesitation, guided her onward. Just as well. 

A door slammed behind them and a shout went up. “Stop!”

Kathryn and Chakotay dashed through the kitchen, scattering head chef and pot-washer alike. A shot pinged against a pan, spewing its contents onto the floor just ahead.

“Ballistic weapons,” Chakotay said, guiding her away from the spill. “These guys are not messing around.”

While a low powered energy beam would knock someone out, and at higher levels could even prove fatal, most civilised societies banned ballistic weapons, appalled at the havoc they wrecked on soft flesh. Not Paradise Falls, apparently.

Another shot whizzed over their heads.

They ran low, ducking and weaving, all the time Kathryn cursing her footwear.

“This way.” They made a dash for a door that Kathryn fervently hoped opened onto the street. Another shot. Chakotay gasped, and stumbled, clutching his side. Desperately, she clung to his hand, urging him towards the door.

With the exit in sight, an agent barrelled Chakotay onto the floor.

Kathryn, gasping, furious, terrified for Chakotay and high with adrenaline, picked up the nearest pot and flung it at the agent. He fell to the floor, shrieking and clutching his face.

Grabbing Chakotay’s lapels, she hauled him to his feet. They plunged out of the door and into the night. 

When she judged they were a safe distance away, they ducked down an alleyway. Chakotay leaned heavily against the wall, wheezing.

“Let me see,” she said.

He flinched as she tugged up his shirt. Even in the darkness she could see the blood-stained hole in the fabric where the bullet had passed before slashing through his side.

Kathryn ripped a strip from the shirt and made it into a pad, but there was no way of securing it. “Here, press with this. We need to get back to our room so I can take care of you properly.”

With her heart thrumming like an overpowered warp core, Kathryn checked the coast was clear. How far back to the resort? It had been a twenty minute brisk stroll here. Going back with him in this state would at least double that, assuming she managed to support him at all.

When she returned, his eyes were closed. Crouching in front of him, she gently shook his shoulder. “Chakotay, I’m sorry, but we need to go.”

He didn’t open his eyes. She shook his shoulder. “Chakotay.”

Still nothing.

“On your feet, Commander,” she barked. “That’s an order.”

His eyes flickered open. “Yes, ma’am,” he said weakly. Then he added, “You might need to help me up.”

Carefully, she hefted him up. “Here. Lean on me,” she said.

He slid his arm around her shoulders, and she got hers around his waist, tucking his jacket around him so that it added to the pressure on his wound and concealed the blood. They struggled along the streets, heads down, not meeting the curious glances from those they passed, until...

“Kathy, Charlie?” came a familiar voice.

Kathryn’s heart sank.  _ Gigete. _

”Are you two alright?” the young woman went on.

Kathryn halted a short distance away from the pair. Why had they left so early? Were they following them?

“Charlie here guzzled a few too many of those exotic blue drinks. We’re going for a lay down.”

Gigete took a step closer. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, we’re fine.” Kathryn couldn’t resist a probing question of her own. “You left early, too.”

Gigete and Phrell glanced at one another. “Oh, we found the party rather dull,” Phrell said. “We thought we’d get a drink here in town. But we could walk you back to the resort.”

“Really, no need. You go ahead and enjoy your evening.” Kathryn nudged Chakotay away from the pair’s probing eyes, and called over her shoulder, for good measure, “Watch out for the cocktails, they’re stronger than they look!”

“Those two are up to something,” she muttered to Chakotay.

He grunted, but didn’t have the energy to say more. Kathryn got her head down and redoubled her efforts supporting his larger frame.

When they finally tumbled through the doors of their apartment, forty-five long minutes later, Kathryn helped him to sit down on the bathroom floor, back against the bathtub. His forehead was beaded with sweat.

She eased his jacket off, unbuttoned the remains of his shirt, and then slipped that from his shoulders too.

He flinched as she examined the ripped skin. “I can’t see a foreign body,” she said. “Luckily, it went right through.” It was a nasty laceration, though, longer than her hand, the skin ripped away and raw flesh exposed.

“I don't feel lucky,” he said.

“No, just the opposite,” she agreed. She used a wash cloth and warm soapy water to clean the wound. He held his head back and closed his eyes. She wished she had pain relief. The soap was hardly medically sterile, but with luck it should keep pathogens at bay. “I’d give a year’s replicator rations for a dermal regenerator.”

He managed a weak grin. “Or a phaser.”

His smile raised her spirits a little, and she held the pad firmly on his side until the bleeding slowed.

With nothing else to use for a bandage, she tore strips from their bed sheet to bind his wound. She crouched beside him.

“Can you lean forward a little?” she asked. He did so. She leaned in to wrap the strip around his back, her cheek almost touching his. Again, that tingling through her body taunted her. She swallowed hard and secured the pad. “There. Should stop the bleeding.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Kathryn, I want to tell you something. I had a memory earlier today,” he said. “I didn’t know what to say. But…” He looked uncertain whether to share it.

“What did you remember?” she prompted softly, his need to unburden himself apparent.

“I think...I was kissing you.”

“Oh.”

“I don't know if it was real or something from this...charade.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder. His eyes glazed. “Like the dancing,” he whispered, as if he were just figuring out something painful. “You danced with me, and kissed me tonight, just to hide our true identities. Not because you wanted to get closer.” Maybe he knew the bullet had pierced the casing of his soft heart, and dangerous feelings, simmering for years, were gushing out, because he clutched his side, as if to hold back the emotional flood.

His vulnerability stabbed her heart. They  _ had _ kissed before tonight; she remembered it too, and she should tell him. She wanted to. Yet what she wanted and what she allowed herself were light years apart. Unburdening herself might make things feel easier, but no good would come in the long run from shining a light on that misery. Like a firesnapper trapped in a glass cage, indecision buzzed in her belly. Open up to the truth or hide in the lie? 

In the end, the woman lurking under the captain’s mask remained too scared to reveal the truth. 

She busied herself checking his bandage. “I think the bleeding’s stopped,” she deflected, hoarsely. “Do you think you can stand up?”

His eyes lived in a world of pain. “I think so.”

She helped him to his feet, and then took a step away, remorse twisting her gut.

“Thank you. I’ll take it from here,” he said stiffly.

Kathryn fled the bathroom before the chink in her mask became a crack.

She grabbed his pyjamas from the bed, knowing she would have to turn and face him again, and she needed to do it before her self-control ruptured. She firmed her shoulders, swung around and stepped back into the bathroom.

He watched her silently.

“Call if you need me,” she said, backing away. She had to strap her armour back on. Now.

He nodded, eyes full of indefinable sadness, and pushed the door closed.

“Damn.” She undressed quickly and then flopped onto the bed.  _ “Damn it.”  _ The last thing she ever wanted was hurt him, but she felt like she’d just chiselled pieces from his soul.

What a god-awful fucking mess.

Kathryn lay waiting for Chakotay to come out of the bathroom, listening for sounds he might need help, while replaying the night’s events in her head. All these years at her side, officer and man, walking the line between duty and desire. How many more times was she going to let moments like this slip away? She could have lost him tonight, without telling him how she really felt. How much longer was she going to lie to him? To herself? She stared at the ceiling.

She must have drifted off, because she flicked her eyes open found Chakotay hovering by the bed. Her first guilty instinct was to tell him she’d sleep on the couch. But of course they still didn’t know if they were being monitored.

“Lay down, honey,” she said softly, hoping she could reel back some of the hurt she’d just dished out.

He inclined his head, and eased himself under the covers. She shut off the lights. He clearly had trouble getting comfortable, as he tried first his right side, and then settled on his back.

“I never thought I’d miss the Doctor so much,” Chakotay whispered. “We take a lot for granted.”

She shuffled closer. “Yes we do. The people we care about. Remembering what happened yesterday." She sighed. "I’m sorry if what’s happened between us has complicated our relationship. I’m sorry we don’t know.”

"To be honest," he said, wistful amusement in his voice, "I’d always imagined that if I made love to you, it would be a little more memorable.”

“If we made love I’d never want to forget,” she admitted, her heart surging. To hell with it. To hell with everything. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in and let her lips brush his. “We’re long overdue for a proper conversation,” she said. “When this is over, we’ll work out what to do about all these...feelings.” She settled her head against his shoulder.

He drew her closer. “Is that a promise? You’re not going to keep avoiding this?”

“Don’t let me,” she said firmly. “We both know I’ll try.”


	5. More Conflicted than Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn and Chakotay visit the memory doctor.

Chakotay woke to an angry, pulsing throb where the bullet had gouged his flesh. What a strange new world he found himself in: no hypospray to ease his pain, no EMH to annoy him back to health, and Kathryn beside him, clad only in a silky nightgown. Last night, after she had kissed him and fallen asleep in his arms, he’d lain awake a long time, wondering what it all meant.

She stirred and murmured, "How do you feel?”

He adjusted his makeshift bandage. “Like I’ve been shot.”

Kathryn sat up, pulled the bed clothes back and checked his dressing. “This has been bleeding. Can you sit?” 

He manoeuvred himself upright, and took a sharp breath as she unwrapped the bandage. She grimaced sympathetically. “Sorry.”

He gritted his teeth. “How does it look?”

“Nasty enough, but clean.” She pulled her bottom lip tight as she re-fixed the bandage. She let her hand linger a moment on his bare chest, and her eyes flick up to meet his, before she shuffled away, a little coyly, perhaps remembering that kiss. “I’m going to…” she nodded towards the bathroom. 

He let a smile play across his face. So, the challenges were these: get their memories back, get  _ Voyager _ back, and win Kathryn’s stubborn heart or die trying.

***

Kathryn had been inclined to skip breakfast and get moving, but Chakotay had insisted they eat before they left for their meeting with Zandren. Although slowed up by his wound, at least his spirits seemed in good shape. “So, do you think this memory doctor Zandren’s taking us to will really be able to fix us?” he said as they walked.

“I hope so.” Soon, they'd discover what had happened to their crew, not to mention what had gone on between the two of them. Her stomach fluttered with a nervous buzz of anticipation and unease. Long ago, she'd promised herself she'd only sleep with Chakotay when she was prepared to follow through on a relationship, never to fill an emotional gap or in a moment of weakness. She hoped yesterday's Kathryn had made a choice that today's Kathryn could stand by. 

A moment of disorientation hit her, sending her head reeling and her vision splitting into stars. Bile rose in her throat. She took a deep breath.

"Are you alright?" Swiftly, Chakotay caught hold of her arm to steady her.

When she had recovered her senses, she nodded. "Just that dizziness again. Its passing."

They waited only a few more minutes before a harried-looking Zandren dashed towards them. Without ceremony, she thrust a backpack at Kathryn. “Get into these clothes. You can’t go downtown dressed like that.”

As they scrambled into resort uniforms and stuffed their own clothes in the bag, Zandren caught sight of Chakotay’s bandaged ribs. “What in the goddess’ name happened to you?”

“Spat with the senate police.”

Zandren cast a wary glance along the pathway. “Those guys are the worst. You weren’t followed, were you?”

“I don’t think so,” Kathryn said, and held out the slip of paper with the details of meeting Yingon.

“Good, Yingon came through." Zandren grinned. "We’ll go meet him after we’ve seen Doc Poxet and got your memories fixed.

"Any more news?" Kathryn asked?

Zandren shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Is everyone where you come from so demanding?" she glanced at Chakotay, who smiled. 

As they walked Chakotay asked, "How is it we can understand one another? We don’t have the communication devices that usually facilitate that."

“Have you noticed a small lump behind your ear?”

Chakotay and Kathryn both raised their hands to feel. “Hmm,” she said, “some kind of subcutaneous universal translator?”

“Everyone has them fitted when they arrive. You’d already gotten yours when we first met,” Zandren told them, as they continued towards the downtown area. It was a shocking change from last night’s finery: the clean, bright resort morphed into a shanty town of lean-to shacks and boarded up buildings. Everyone wore either the resort uniform or clothes that had seen better days several years ago. Scraggy children ran the dirt streets. How could so much wealth and poverty exist side by side? No wonder the senate worked so hard to suppress the truth. 

They ducked down an alleyway. Zandren banged on a paint-flaked door in the side of a building with crumbling brickwork. 

A woman with a long ponytail and tired eyes opened the door and ushered them inside. Zandren quickly embraced her before turning to Kathryn. “This is Haleier Poxet, a very good friend of mine. She’s a resort doctor, but she also works for the resistance.”

Poxet glanced at Kathryn. “I have to feed my family. But I also need to sleep at night." She showed them into a back room, and went on, "Zandren tells me you were caught in a stasis sweep, and you’ve been suffering from intermittent amnesia ever since.”

“So it would seem,” Kathryn said. “My friend was also shot last night. Can you take a look at him first?”

Poxet waved Chakotay towards one of the examination chairs. “Hmmm, you were lucky. It’s clean.” She looked up. “Tangling with the senate police? They’re usually to blame for injuries like this.”

Kathryn nodded. “Yes. You see this often?”

“Much more than I’d like.” She shook her head. “Once you scratch the surface, paradise, this place isn’t.”

Poxet delved into a black bag and pulled out a tube of ointment. “This will accelerate healing and reduce the pain.” Kathryn watched as Poxet squeezed some clear gel onto Chakotay’s wound. He relaxed within moments.

Poxet threw the tube back into her bag. “We don’t have much time. We need to reintegrate your memory engrams by recalibrating the hippocampal regions of your brains. The goddess only knows how you didn’t end up like the rest of your poor crew.”

Kathryn’s head jerked upwards. “What do you know about my crew?” 

“I’m sorry. The trial was brought forward. It started a couple of hours ago.”

“Then we should go now!” When Kathryn tried to get up, Poxet pushed her firmly back down into her seat.

“Not so fast. Have you been experiencing headaches, nausea, blackouts and memory incursions?”

“Well, yes,” Kathryn conceded. “All of those.”

“Then you’re close to a consciousness breach. When that happens, it’ll make all those symptoms feel like a tickle. You’ll bleed from your ears, nose, eyes, and then,” she made a small popping sound and illustrated her point by flicking her fingers outward, right by Kathryn’s temple, “your anterior cerebral artery ruptures and empties into your brain. Needless to say, you’ll be no good to your crew in that state.”

“Point taken,” Kathryn said, grudgingly, leaning back.

Poxet attached electrode sensors to Kathryn and Chakotay’s temples, and connected those sensors to a small black device that sat in the gap between the chairs. “Alright,” she said, adjusting a dial, “if we isolate the first affected memory that should give us a baseline reading. Focus on your most recent memories from before you arrived here. It might be from hours before you were caught in the harmonic field, as the effects can be drawn-out .”

Kathryn let her mind drift. Last thing she remembered, she’d been on  _ Voyager _ , enjoying an after-dinner drink with Chakotay, hadn’t she? He’d been avoiding telling her what had really happened that day by invoking the Temporal Prime Directive. She recalled teasing him about how she knew where he kept his cider. Come to think of it, how  _ did _ she know where he kept that drink?

She glanced over to see him frowning.

Poxet tapped the controls on the top of the box and adjusted a couple more dials.

Two wavy lines appeared on the front, one above the other, but out of synch, one rising as the other fell.

“Describe the last thing you remember,” Poxet told Kathryn.

“Uh, we were in my quarters. We’d had dinner. I think we’d been interrupted and had just returned.”

“I’d had a terrible day,” Chakotay chipped in.

“Aren't they all?”

He smiled softly. “Not all of them.”

Poxet rolled her eyes. “Getting you two back sympatico shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, the fact that you two are already closely attuned should make this easier. Could you hold hands?”

“Hold hands?” Kathryn echoed.

“Hmm, yes,” Poxet said, without looking up. “According to this, you were in close physical proximity when the neural sweep began. We need to get your neural patterns back to that original state. Skin to skin contact is best.”

Chakotay offered her his hand, and she took it, sliding her fingers between his. 

The warmth seeped into her skin. They’d held hands before; a grip to share a resolution, to offer strength or support, but never like this; a prelude to a deep joining. A wave of anxiety hit her: suddenly, living with the ambiguity about their relationship seemed easier than the certainty they’d slept together. They were about to lift the curtain on a third act she wasn’t sure she knew how to deal with.

“The engramatic trace is synchronising,” Poxet said. “Close your eyes and relax. The memories will reintegrate gradually.”

Kathryn snatched a glance at Chakotay. “What are you thinking?” she whispered. 

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

She offered a lopsided smile, vacillating between faking and bravado. She settled on honesty. “I’m a little nervous.”

He squeezed her hand. “Me too. But we’ll figure it out,”

The machine buzzed as energy trickled from the electrodes into her skin. It wasn’t exactly painful, more like a strong itch. Her head pressed back into the chair.

... _ They were in the apartment back at the resort, squeezed together in their small bathroom. _

_ “Are you sure about this, Kathryn?” he whispered. _

_ “Not really,” she heard her own voice reply. “But you remember what Zandren said. “ We need to convince whoever’s spying on us that we really are newlyweds. The lives of our crew depend on it.” _

_ Chakotay tugged his ear. “Alright. How do you suggest…”  _

_ Kathryn patted his chest in an effort to put him at ease. “For one thing, you can stop worrying about my modesty. If that’s bothering you.” _

_ “That’s one among several things bothering me,” he said, raking his hand through his short hair. _

_ “I’m not going to lose control and ravish you,” she quipped. _

_ He mumbled, “Well that’s a relief.” _

_ “We’ll just strip each other off,” she said casually, “scatter a few clothes around and dive under the covers—” She stopped. Judging by his reddened face, her blase approach was doing nothing to reduce his discomfort. Despite years of close friendship and the undeniable attraction between them, she shouldn’t assume he was okay with this. “Forgive me, Commander. If you’re not comfortable, we won’t do it.” _

_ Indecision fretted at his face. “Kathryn, I won’t deny this makes me uncomfortable, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s a bad idea. It’s just...I can’t guarantee there won’t be a…” He cheek twitched but he got a grip on himself and went on, “...biological response.” _

_ “Oh,” she said, flushing, but quickly gathered her wits sufficiently to reply, “I might find the situation a little arousing myself. But we’ve known each other a long time. We’re both adults. Please don’t worry.” _

_ He looked at her and laughed, shaking his head. “You, Kathryn Janeway, never cease to amaze me.” Then something shifted in his demeanour, his eyes suddenly alive with an impish gleam. He stepped up close. “Ready?” _

_ Her heart spiked. “I’m... quite prepared for a little biological response, if you are,” she stammered. _

_ He reached over her shoulder and pushed the door open behind her, while almost growling into her ear, “Who said anything about it being little?”  _

_ Kathryn burned red hot at the next memory: she froze. He took command.  _

_ Images and sensations flooded back. The scene became a flurry of peeled off clothes, his hands on her shoulders, tender, but restrained. His body, solid, smooth, carefully avoiding pressing her too close, and despite his devilish quip about his size, which, she noted, was not an idle boast, he respected her parameters. He kissed her neck, never her lips, let his hands ghost over her hips and shoulders, but stray no further. He did just enough to convince anyone spying on them they were lovers. Nothing more. _

She turned to him, now, sitting beside her in the dingy doctor’s office.

Forehead creased, he stared at the ceiling. “We were faking.”

“You remember?” she croaked.

“I remember putting on a show that stopped short of...”

He couldn’t quite finish the sentence, but she knew how he’d intended it to end. Sex. They didn’t have sex. Instead of relief, a twinge of disappointment lodged in her chest.

Poxet continued to fiddle with her machine. “Now we’ve triggered the cascade, all your memories should re-integrate into your consciousness within the next couple of hours. I suggest you find somewhere quiet, hunker down, relax and let it happen.”

From her position staring out between two boards that covered the window, Zandren cursed. “Senate goons. We need to go.”

Poxet tugged the electrodes from their foreheads. “I hate those guys,” she spat, and started to usher them towards a back door. Then she paused, quickly rummaging through her bag. “You’ll need something to revive your crew.” She shoved a fist full of hyposprays into Kathryn’s hands. “Do you have a way to synthesise this?”

“Yes.” Kathryn thrust the sprays into the backpack and flung it over her shoulders.

Zandren was already halfway out of the door. “Hurry!”

As Kathryn flew towards the exit, the sound of boots crashing through the front of the building reached her ears. They didn’t wait to hear more. Zandren raced them through the warren of dingey backstreets, between tall, ramshackle dwellings, dodging hapless passersby. Several shots cracked overhead. Kathryn swerved, trying to keep track of Chakotay’s position. Thankfully, after Poxet’s treatment he could move more easily. 

They sprinted until the broken down building was out of sight and then paused behind a dumpster. 

Zandren waved towards the end of the street, still panting. “To the east, there’s an area of landfill. It's foul, but I know a way through.”

Leaning against the hot metal, Kathryn pulled a face. “Lovely."

Zandren scowled. “Nine years ago, I came here with my brother, for a better life. Got put in the building at the far side of this stinking mess. Davit used to say, 'Welcome to Paradise Falls, where guests rise to the smell of fresh coffee and a sea breeze while staff choke awake to the buzz of flies.'" He always fancied himself a bit of a poet. “She laughed bitterly. "He disappeared three years ago."

More shouting. They ran. 

The stench of their escape route assaulted their noses long before they saw it. As they skidded to a halt before the tall wire fence, Kathryn covered her mouth with the crook of her elbow. Zandren had not been kidding about the smell.

Zandren crouched and made short work of creating a hole with a pair of wire snippers pulled from her back pocket. She glanced up with a satisfied grin.

From nowhere, a uniformed man appeared, his bulky frame towering over Zandren. “Subversives,” he hissed.

“Screw you!” Zandren took a wild swing upwards with the wire-cutters.

A weapon cracked. 

As if she were merely startled, Zandren looked down as a rosette of blood bloomed across her chest. She fell to her knees. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you bastard,” Kathryn spat.

The agent turned his flinty eyes and then his steely gun on Kathryn.

Chakotay launched himself, and for a heart wrenching moment he and the agent scrambled in the dust, first one, then the other on top. Then the deadly crack pierced the air again. Kathryn stared at Chakotay, pinned, blood pooling on the ground, and she couldn't breathe. Her vision faded to grey, as if the sunlight had been sucked from the world.

Then she heard him grunt. He shoved the officer’s body off and climbed to his feet, holding the weapon in his hands disdainfully. Tucking the gun in the back of his pants, he hurried to Kathryn’s side, and added his hands to her attempt to stem the blood spilling from Zandren’s broken chest. A wordless sound gurgled from the young woman’s throat. She fumbled at something hanging around her neck. 

“Take this,” she gasped. “Proof. To our home world. Liri.”

Kathryn took the locket from Zandren’s bloody hands. “You have our word.”

Zandren nodded once. The wheeze morphed into a rattle. Her face was ash, her lips purple.

“Close your eyes,” Chakotay said softly, gently soothing her cheek with his palm. “Your goddess is waiting.” Zandren took one last, gasping breath, and then fell silent against the dusty earth.

Shaking, Kathryn’s fist closed around the necklace. She removed it with care, and then lay Zandren’s head back down in the dust. “We’ll have to hide the bodies,” she said numbly.

Chakotay’s sad eyes settled on the landfill.

They dragged Zandren first, then her killer through the hole in the fence and buried them both. Abandoning their friend in a stinking mass of rotting rubbish seemed a terrible way to repay her help. 

Raw hearted, Kathryn rasped, “I’m sorry, my friend. I hope we won’t leave you here too long.” She clutched the necklace.

Chakotay’s hand grasped hers. “We’ll get it there. Together.”

Kathryn closed her eyes briefly. The universe had shifted on its axis for a second time. She’d almost gotten her head around the fact that she and Chakotay had slept together, but it seemed they hadn’t. She should probably feel relieved, but in truth she felt more conflicted than ever.


	6. Time is a Strange Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises for Kathryn and Chakotay as more memories return.

In the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay had quickly learned to put loss aside until he had space to grieve properly, but it was never easy. He knew that Kathryn hated losing people. As captain she took it personally every time.

Straining not to retch as he trudged behind her through the garbage, he covered his nose with his hand. “Who’d have thought all this filth lies just a few kilometres from that beautiful resort?” he grumbled. While the worst of his pain had eased after Poxet’s treatment, the fight with the guard had jabbed and jolted him, and what had been a dull ache rose to an angry throb.

“Something rotten beneath the surface. Quite the metaphor,” Kathryn said, shooting him a sideways glance, and then forging ahead. In her haste, she almost stumbled.

“Are you all right?” he called.

She scowled, kicking at the waste bag fouling her feet. “No, I’m not. The crew is in danger, you almost got killed, Zandren is dead, and we’re knee-deep in…” she scowled at the landscape, her hands on her hips, “…this.”

Chakotay watched her closely. Living day to day with threat, loss and danger had practically been her job description for the past seven years, and she had never minded getting her hands dirty. He couldn’t help thinking there was more to her foul mood.

“Agreed,” he wheezed, glad for the pause if nothing else. “There’s a lot to be concerned about.” Stomach-churning brown gunk oozed beneath his light summer shoes. “But we can’t do anything about that right now except keep going.”

“Hmph!” she said, still avoiding looking at him.

He’d thought the revelation that they’d maintained their parameters would have pleased her, but she seemed far from happy. Had he gone further than she’d wanted? Sure, he’d kissed her neck and helped her off with a few clothes, but he’d stopped well short of touching her intimately. How was he supposed to know what he’d done wrong if she didn’t tell him?

“You haven’t said anything about what Poxet’s treatment revealed,” he ventured. 

She whirled about. “What is there to say, Chakotay? I’ve spent the past twenty four hours thinking I made an error in judgement and slept with one of my crew. Now I know I didn’t.”

Her words hit him the way a swinging punch-bag might clobber a young boxer. “Is that how you saw it?” he said incredulously. “An error of judgement?”

“Didn't you?”

He caught her arm. “No. In fact I thought we’d finally done something honest.”

She yanked free of his grip. “Honest? What’s honest about giving in to a temptation we’ve always agreed to leave alone?”

“I  _ never _ agreed with that.”

“You know it would make things impossible if we started sleeping together,” she huffed, busying herself brushing grime from the hem of her resort uniform.

He narrowed his eyes. Frankly, her attitude stank as much as the festering garbage. “Last night, you promised me a proper conversation about this. Now you’re avoiding the issue again.”

She snorted. “We need to focus on getting  _ Voyager _ back, saving our crew and delivering Zandren’s message.” With a last brutal kick of the bag at her feet, she marched on.

He watched her go. What the hell was wrong with her? Unsure she was even in ear shot, he let loose a volley of frustration. “There’s never a good time to have this conversation, is there?” She didn’t pause or turn, and that just about made his blood boil. “If that’s the way you feel, then I’m glad we didn’t sleep together,” he yelled at her back.

“Me too!” she said, booting another filthy bag aside. She strode on without another word.

With an exasperated sigh, he followed.

***

When they finally emerged from the noxious landfill, Chakotay surveyed the landscape. They now stood at the bottom of a slope.

“We can’t go back to the resort,” Kathryn said dourly.

“Agreed.” He pointed at a path. “If I’m any judge, I’d say the waterfall’s that way. At least we could get clean so we don’t attract unwanted attention.”

Kathryn wrinkled her nose. “That would be welcome right about now.” With a slight narrowing of her eyes in his direction, she swept her arm expansively towards the track. “Lead on.”

He recognised that look. It was the one she wore in the space between realising she’d been wrong and backing down, which for Kathryn could be anything from minutes to years.

After what felt like an age of silent walking, they joined a well-worn path and a scattering of tourists. Soon after, the sound of gurgling and sloshing filled the air. They turned the corner to a cascade of foam tumbling into a clear pond, water droplets shimmering iridescent blue in the sunlight. Coves and inlets peppered the towering rock face beside the falls and the lake was dotted with couples relaxing on the grassy banks or splashing in the crystal waters, their voices lifted in laughter.

Kathryn paused, apparently jolted out of her sullen mood by the pure, breath-taking splendour.  “Well that’s something,” she whispered. 

Staying angry in the face of transcendence seemed absurd. He let go a cleansing breath, expelling tension and drawing in calm from the gentle breeze.

“We can rest, clean up and...cool down.” Kathryn shot him a guilty glance, pulling at her bottom lip. “ _ I _ need to cool down, don’t I?”

“You do seem a little wound up,” he agreed. “Look, I’m sorry if what happened the other night went further than you intended. I’d never purposely invade your privacy.”

She laid an apologetic hand on his chest. “I’m not cross with you. I’m cross with myself.”

Chakotay shook his head. “That sounds about right.”

“Am I that transparent?” she whispered.

“Only to me,” he said softly. He wrinkled his nose. “I hate to break it to you, but we both stink. We should get into the water and then into some fresh clothes.”

A sudden head rush made him almost stagger.

Kathryn quickly guided him towards a grassy spot, a little away from other guests. “Here, sit down.”

The tranquil atmosphere, the sunlight, and even the lingering stench, faded as a memory hissed into his skull.

_ He is in Kathryn’s quarters. He has just burned out the deflector dish, and she’s needling him about what really happened. He rather likes keeping her on the back foot. The Temporal Prime Directive can hide a multitude of sins. _

_ She doesn’t let it drop. “But something did happen, outside the normal space time continuum. It's strange, thinking there's a piece of your life you don't know anything about.” _

_ He grins. “Sounds a lot like the future.” _

_ “Any predictions?” _

_ “Only that in a few minutes this bottle will be empty.” _

_ Her lip twitches. “Then maybe you should go to the Cargo Bay, grab another one.” _

_ He squints at her. “How do you know that's where I keep it?” _

_ “Oh, I can't tell you,” she says airily. _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “Temporal Prime Directive.” _

_ He laughs. _

_ “Time is a strange beast,” she says. She is staring out of the window. “We’re so many years from home, so much empty time stretched out before us, and yet it seems on any given day we hardly get a moment to think.” _

_ Chakotay watches her, gazing out to the stars that have become their home. Today, time played a game, and he’d won. Despite the odds he and Kathryn lurched from enemies to allies, spiralling up through suspicion—via fiery glances and pointed questions— to trust. And more than that. By the adventure’s end, he suspected that if he kissed the younger Kathryn she would kiss him right back. But he didn’t press his advantage. He never did. Maybe that’s part of the problem. _

_ “I’ll get that cider,” he says. _

_ When he returns, she seems restless and broody. He shoots her a curious glance. “Something on your mind?” _

_ “I’ve made choices you manifestly don’t agree with. And yet you always have my back.” _

_ “That’s my job.” _

_ She stares out of the window. “I can’t imagine doing this without you.” _

_ He sits beside her, wondering at this uncharacteristic melancholy. “What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.” _

_ “I don’t mean I worry about losing your loyalty as an officer. But our friendship feels a little precarious, sometimes.” _

_ “Our friendship is solid.” He pauses, debating whether or not to reveal his prickling insecurity. He takes the leap. “As long as I know you want it.” _

_ “We can’t always have the things we want,” she whispers. _

_ The moment spins out, a golden thread between the past and the future. For the first time in years he sees their whole relationship clearly: backwards in time, forwards in time, the attraction between them always simmering beneath the surface. _

_ What’s the old saying? Fortune favours the bold? He takes a breath. “It’s true we don’t always get what we want,” he says, “If we play by the rules.” _

_ “I suppose...” she hesitates, as if marshalling her thoughts, “we haven’t come this far playing it safe.” It seems to him her eyes beg for things she can’t ask for aloud: connection, tenderness. Maybe even love. _

_ His skin tingles. "You’re not afraid of taking risks.” _

_ “Except this one,” she admits. _

_ He waits, a man stuck between safety and a serpent. This will be the moment she'll reset her damn parameters, like she always does. He won today, but time is still an untamable beast. _

_ Only today, Kathryn doesn’t retreat. _

_ She moves closer. The beast cowers. _

_ Antarian cider on her lips. Her eyes, so blue. She kisses him, softly, like in a dream. _

_ She leans back, examining his face. “Time to stand our ground, Chakotay. If you’re with me?” _

_ “Oh, I’m with you,” he says, pulling her into a hotter, sweeter kiss. “All the way.” _

“Chakotay. Chakotay. Are you alright?” her voice ground out.

The dizziness faded. “Yes, it’s just... I remember...”

“What? Tell me.” Her eyes were eager, demanding.

He looked at her, mute. He remembered everything. That first kiss and what happened next: making love until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. But he could see in her eyes that  _ she _ didn’t. He shook his head. “I think it’s best to wait for it to come back to you as well.”

She sat back on her haunches, regarding him thoughtfully. “Really? Fair enough, I suppose.” She stood up. “I’m going to get clean.”

He watched her stalk towards the pool, take off the filthy uniform dress, fling it to the ground before dipping her toe in the water. Chakotay followed, and like she had, stripped to his underwear.

This new memory cast everything in a new light. What happened between them hadn’t been a moment of weakness, or a lapse of judgement, but a well thought-out choice.

There was no way in hell he would let her wiggle out of that one.

*******

Kathryn submerged herself and lay back. Bathing in the warm pool soothed her aching legs, but not her conscience. Water might cleanse grime, but it couldn’t wash away guilt. She’d reacted badly, she knew it.

Chakotay watched her, probably, she realised, concerned she’d experience another memory rush and slip beneath the water, something she hadn’t even considered until that moment. He managed to care for her even when she cared little for herself. And yet...why wouldn't he share what he’d remembered?

Her head started to tingle, and then a giddy wave swept her back to  _ Voyager. _

_ “…I’m going to get clean,” she hears herself say. “You want to join me?” She looks back at the man who shared her bed last night. _

_ The man I shared a bed with last night. _

In an instant, she knew it all. Drinking Antarian cider. Him going for another bottle, and exactly what had happened when he returned: they had made love. It had been glorious and she wanted to do it again. Often.

_ He grins broadly, swings his legs out of bed, and follows her, naked, into the bathroom. “Am I allowed to ask what changed your mind?” _

_ “Your irresistible charm?” she quips, snatching another appreciative look at his muscular frame while she steps into the shower. _

_ “Haven't I always been irresistible?” he says, following. “Why now?” _

_ She quirks her lips. “Hmm. Perhaps I finally realised I’d be a fool to let you slip through my fingers again.” _

_ “Oh?” he kisses her neck as the tingle of sonic energy envelops them. She’s forgotten just how stimulating it is to share a sonic shower. _

_ Then he stops and looks up. “What do you mean, again?” _

_ She grins. “Maybe I know a little more about yesterday than you think.” _

_ He grabs her hips and pulls her tight to him. “Wait. You remember meeting me? Me from the future?” _

_ She decides, much as she enjoys teasing him, to tell the truth. “It's as if I saw it happen, the way you remember a holonovel. Being part of the action, but still aware that it wasn’t quite in tune with reality. Suddenly I had memories of both timelines. It was a little confusing.” She runs her finger across his chest. _

_ “So that’s how you knew I keep the cider in the cargo bay.” _

_ “When you went out to get that second bottle, I realised something. It doesn’t matter when or how we meet. I always want you. I’d be the biggest fool in the Delta Quadrant if I kept up the charade." _

_ Chakotay’s jaw drops. She takes the opportunity to kiss him again, and loses herself in sweeping sensations, until, outside the shower, her combadge chirps. A split second later Voyager drops out of warp. Kathryn curses, but before she can even extract herself from Chakotay’s arms, a harsh computerised voice booms into the ship. _

_ “Attention vessel designation USS Voyager NCC-seven four six five six. You are in violation of Thyopian orbital code six zero three five alpha for vessels of non-Lirian origin. Your crew will be scanned and placed in stasis and your ship impounded pending judicial review.” _

_ “What?” Kathryn exclaims. Lines of green light sweep towards them, reach the edge of the sonic shower, and then part around them. _

_ “What the hell?” Chakotay starts to move, but Kathryn stops him. _

_ “Keep still. Stay under the sonic beam. Look.” She points to the green lines sweeping back in their direction. “I think the sonic waves are somehow disrupting the scan.” They freeze, pressed close together, vulnerable in their nudity. Chakotay encloses her in a protective embrace. _

_ When enough time has passed to risk getting out of the shower, they fling on clothes. Kathryn grabs her combadge. She pauses. If the ship has been compromised so quickly and completely, then open comms will give away their location. Instead she sits at her computer terminal. _

_ “Do you have weapons?” Chakotay asks. _

_ She waves at a drawer next to her bed. “Two phasers in there, and a pulse rifle in the back of my wardrobe.” _

_ Chakotay raised an eyebrow. “Expecting a mutiny?” _

_ “Expecting the unexpected,” she says. “Computer. Full status report.” _

_ “Voyager is at full stop. There is no structural, mechanical or electrical damage to engineering, computational, or bio-neural systems. The crew complement, excluding Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay are in bio-stasis. The EMH has been deactivated. An unknown force is attempting to gain control of the main computer. Unknown forces are attempting to board via docking bay two. Estimated time to breach, two minutes and fifteen seconds." _

_ “Segment a portion of the mainframe and reroute that along with bridge functions to astrometrics,” Kathryn commanded. That at least would give them a little time. _

_ “Unable to comply. Computational de-coupling protocols have been disabled.” _

_ Kathryn raises a functional schematic showing the computer losing control of great swathes of the ship. _

_ Behind her, Chakotay curses and flings the pulse rifle on the bed. “Useless. Just like the phasers. That probe must have disabled them.” _

_ A chill runs down her spine. She addresses the terminal. “How long before the main computer is compromised?” _

_ “One minute and nineteen seconds.” _

_ “What do you still have control over?” _

_ “Hydroponics. Auxiliary support craft systems. Emergency crew mobility systems.” _

_ Chakotay stepped close. “If we use the site to site transporter to get to a shuttle, we might be able to beam out,” he says. _

_ The same thought occurred to her too, but every instinct screamed no, she should fight for her ship, and her crew. Find a way to do the impossible. “I don’t like to run, Chakotay,” she says, but even as she speaks, she knows he’s right. This enemy is too powerful. She could try to save everyone and end up saving no one. She learned that damn awful lesson the hard way, many years ago and swore never to repeat her mistake.  _

_ Kathryn steels her heart. She grips Chakotay’s hand. “You’re right. Live to fight another day.” _

Her head became a cascade of sound and light as more memories flooded back.

Then, a violent jolt, and she was desperately gasping for breath.

Chakotay had pulled her clear of the water, hauling them both up onto the bank. She spat water, coughed, and lay staring up at the blue, sky.

“Kathryn? What do you remember?”

She told him about the probe while they were in the sonic shower, and the supposed orbital code violation, and how they had managed to get to the  _ Delta Flyer _ and beam out, and how, with the few seconds they had to spare, they had hacked the Thiopian systems and created the identities they had been living the last few days—the honeymoon couple Kathy and Charlie Kotay.

Then, finally, she looked over at him, laying beside her. “We  _ did _ sleep together,” she said.

He grinned ruefully. “Hmm. Just not when we thought we did.”

She reached for his hand, the need for honesty overpowering. “I don’t regret it.”

Chakotay smiled warmly. “I’m glad.”

She lifted their joined hands, and whispered, “We have a lot to talk about once the crew’s safe.”  As she pulled on the clothes she’d stuffed in the backpack Zandren had given them, which had, fortunately, escaped the worst of the contamination from the dump, she felt his eyes on her.

“Sonic shower, eh?” he said. “I look forward to getting that memory back.”

His appreciative gaze sent a tingle through her. “It gets better. We left ourselves a backdoor.”

“We’re going to need it,” he said, still watching.

She turned and offered him her hand. “So. We have to take our ship back with nothing but our wits and each other. Are you with me?”

He got to his feet, his solid frame and naked chest alluringly close. He reached out and gently touched her face. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for giving this story such warm feedback. I appreciate all the engagement and kind words so much!


	7. The Captain's Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janeway and Chakotay battle to save Voyager and her crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the big one as far as action is concerned. Enjoy!

Although he tried to avoid worrying Kathryn, after an hour of fast paced walking down the mountain under a blistering sun, Chakotay found himself holding his ribs.

Kathryn paused. “I’d hoped that gel Poxet gave you would last longer.”

“It did help, but to be honest it wasn’t up to the Doctor’s standards. I suppose we’ve been spoiled.”

Concern registered in her eyes, but he smiled and they trudged on.

As they wove their way through a busy market place, Chakotay shot her a sly grin.

“What?”

His hands were behind his back. “Don’t put me on report, Captain,” he whispered, revealing two rounded fruit he’d liberated from a nearby stall.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Commendation for initiative.” She took the fruit and bit deeply. It was delicious just watching her face relax.

Chakotay ate his own fruit as they walked. When they cleared the market place, they asked for directions to the Grashet Transit Centre. In the twenty-five minutes it took to get there, the dull ache in his ribs became a sharp, unremitting pain.

Finally, the grey transportation hub came into view. “Recognise it?” Kathryn asked.

He frowned, and then nodded as a memory flashed back. “Yes. It’s where we arrived.”

Kathryn dug out the note Yingon had given them, only last night but it felt much, much longer ago.

_ Grashet Transit Centre, Level five, blue sector. Door three. 14:00. _

The building’s clock revealed them to be several minutes late. They hurried inside. Uniforms peppered the holiday crowds.

“Try to look casual,” Kathryn said.

He smiled at that. Didn't she know that striding everywhere like a starship captain was her default mode?

He flung his arm across her shoulders. “Well, Kathy, what did you think of our honeymoon?”

She offered him a lopsided smile, and then slipped her arm about his waist. “Unforgettable.”

They weaved their way through the crowds. Would she permit this casual closeness at any other time? This might well be the last public display of affection they would share in a while. That was alright. They could navigate the rest, even if it meant sneaking around, as long as they got _Voyager_ back. But a small voice of doubt rattled at the back of his mind. What if the two of them failed to take the ship back and they were stranded here, their crew lost? It hardly bore thinking about. Kathryn wouldn’t be entertaining the idea, so he put it out his own mind. They would succeed. He had faith in her. In them.

They pressed on.

By the time they reached the blue sector, Yingon, in his green security uniform, was pacing back and forth. “You're late. Where’s Zandren?” he snapped.

Kathryn’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “I’m so sorry. She was killed by the senate police about two hours ago.”

Yingon swore.

Unwavering, Kathryn put a hand on his arm. “We have her message. Get us to our ship and we’ll deliver it. That’s a promise.”

Silently, Yingon led them away from the concourse and queues to a quieter area, and then through a door marked ‘Staff only.’ From there he used his thumbprint to gain access to a service elevator.

Once they were alone Kathryn rounded on Yingon. “The trial's been brought forward.”

“I know. The verdict’s due this afternoon, and they don’t wait long before carrying out the sentence.

“What?” Kathryn exclaimed. “What kind of justice system doesn’t leave time for appeal?”

“A corrupt one,” Yingon said dryly. “Since he came to power, the senate leader has appointed three new judges, who funnily enough are also his friends. The outcome of a trial seems more about the political leanings of the judge than fairness or truth.”

“We don’t even understand the charges,” Chakotay said. “We didn’t know we were violating any codes.”

“Yeah, that seems not to matter either. I don’t want my kids to grow up in a system like this, but it’s impossible to get a visa to leave. The senate controls everything in and out. A burst of neural harmonics manipulate what guests remember. No one has a clue what’s going on here.”

When the elevator halted, Yingon quickly looked left and right, and then ushered them forwards. “This level is being refurbished. There’s a terminal through here where we can access the ships’ manifests and schedules. Quick.”

He hurried them into a side room, crammed full of terminals and desks shrouded in plastic sheets. Yingon uncovered a device and swiped the screen into life with the pad of his thumb. In moments he had logged onto a database, and punched in  _ Voyager’s _ registration number. He swore. “I‘m afraid we're too late. Your vessel has been found in violation of the Thyopian Constitution.  _ Voyager _ is scheduled for destruction.”

“What? Where are my crew?” Kathryn demanded.

Yingon looked up with heavy eyes. “They’re still aboard, in stasis. I’m sorry.”

Kathryn's gravelly tone turned to flint. “Don’t be sorry yet.” She glanced at Chakotay. “If I connect this terminal to the  _ Delta Flyer _ we can use our backdoor.”

All Kathryn had to do was send an activation code to the  _ Flyer’s  _ transporter, and it would scan for their biological signatures and automatically beam them back.

“No amount of clever hacking will get them the codes to our self-destruct system,” Kathryn said crisply. “How do they plan to destroy the ship?”

“Usually, they just fire up the engines and point the ship towards the sun.”

“You can’t be serious!” Chakotay exploded. A punishment so disproportionate to their supposed crime boggled the mind.

But Kathryn didn’t dwell on the injustice. She worked feverishly at the computer, fingers flying back and forth, punching codes and darting around firewalls.

Chakotay glanced at Yingon. “How much time do we have?”

“Thyopian personnel are disembarking. So not long.”

It took only seconds for Kathryn to establish the connection. She stood up. “Thank you, Yingon. We’ll get Zandren’s message to your home world.”

Chakotay put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Her death won’t be in vain. We promise.”

The transporter beam tingled in his chest and their arrival at the  _ Delta Flyer _ signalled they were half-way home. The next set of challenges were about to start.

Kathryn leapt into the pilot's seat, fired up the sensors, and rattled through a remote systems check of  _ Voyager _ . “The warp core is offline. Impulse engines at fifty percent. Auto-navigation active. We’re still in the space dock.”

“Life signs?” Chakotay asked.

Her countenance remained grim. “None. Life support is off and there’s a residual biogenic field all over the ship. Not enough to put us to sleep, but it will hold people under. The good news, if you can call it that, is that there are no Thyopian personnel aboard.”

Chakotay knew that to be a good-news-bad-news situation. No Thyopians meant no one to bump into, but also that they were close to sending  _ Voyager _ on its final mission.

“We need to get control of the ship,” Kathryn said, with fire in her eyes. “And for that, we need our people. Chakotay, check the EV suits.” She continued speaking as he hurried to the back of the  _ Flyer _ and pulled the suits from their housing. “First job is to get to the operational mainframe and reactivate life support. Then we need B’Elanna in Engineering and Tom at the helm.” She paused, likely checking the whereabouts of key personnel. Then she joined him in the aft section, and wasted no time stripping down to her underwear to get into the EV suit. Starfleet habits took over. They checked seals and tubes before they hit their suit’s auto-size adjust. Kathryn’s suit tightened to fit her smaller form, while Chakotay’s barely changed.

Kathryn passed him his helmet. “Coms check, Janeway to Chakotay.”

“I hear you, Captain.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, to give one final tug on the breathing tube that fed oxygen from the tank to the suit.

“You're good,” he said. He turned, enabling her to complete the same ritual.

“Likewise,” she said crisply. He turned to face her. “Fortunately, B'Elanna and Tom are together in their quarters,” she said, taking the vials Poxet had given them, and tucking two inside his utility belt and one in her own. “As soon as we’ve restored life support, you go to wake them. I’ll activate the Doctor on my way to the Bridge.” Then she looked up at him through the glass of her helmet, and let their visors gently bump together in an aching approximation of intimacy.

“Ready?” she whispered.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but there was time for nothing beyond a brief squeeze of her hand through heavy space gloves.

“Computer,” she said. “Two to beam to deck six, corridor three.”

They appeared next to the environmental control hub.

Using a hypospanner she’d tucked in her belt, Kathryn hefted the panel open. He heard a rumble of frustration through his comms. “If I didn’t hate these guys before, I do now,” she rasped. “We need to re-route the tertiary processors. Watch the schematics and tell me when the zones start to come back online.”

On the panel, red lines surrounded areas of the ship where green should have indicated full environmental control. Seconds passed. Nothing changed.

“Damn,” Kathryn said. “I’m going to force a reboot. “No you don’t,” she muttered under her breath. “Someone’s rigged this to—” She tried a sharp step back, but it was too late. A shower of sparks exploded from the panel flinging her back against the opposite wall. She crumpled to the floor.

“Kathryn!” Chakotay rushed to her side. The impact had crushed the tube from her breathing tank, leaving her gasping as her air vented into the vacuum.

She raised her hand weakly at the panel. “Keep working.”

The only way to save her, and the crew, was to keep going. Doing his best to block out the sound of her wheezing, he returned to work.

“Hold on, Kathryn,” he said, “I just need to activate the secondary filters and we’ll have basic life support on this deck.” Yet the lines on the console remained stubbornly red.

He glanced at her. Her lips were blue.

Agonisingly slowly, the green line inched its way around the deck schematic.

Kathryn’s gasps filled his ears, but he didn’t turn away from the screen again until the line completed it’s circuit, indicating safe levels of oxygen. Then he tore off his gloves and flung himself to her side, yanking her helmet off to let her suck in precious air.

Hands shaking, he removed his own helmet, and cradled her in his lap.

“It’s alright,” she said, hoarsely, “I’m alright.” She allowed herself to cling to his arm for a moment, and then croaked, “We need to finish the job.”

Gingerly, he helped her to her feet. “They realised that once the ship went beyond the reach of the biogenic field people would start coming out of stasis. They didn’t want anyone doing what we just did.”

“Bastards,” she muttered.

He nodded. From there on, it was much easier to regain environmental control on the rest of the ship. They even managed to restore communication with the main computer.

Kathryn patted the vial at her waist. “I’ll get this to sickbay and get the Doctor online. Meet me on the bridge with Tom as soon as you ca—” The ship jolted, flinging her into his arms. “Damn it. Computer, status.”

“Auto navigation systems engaged. Course set for zero three nine by six eight two, mark four. Speed, one quarter impulse.”

“What’s at those coordinates,” Chaokay asked, sure he wouldn’t like the answer.

“A yellow dwarf star in the Liri system, diameter—”

“Computer. Raise shields,” Kathryn interjected.

“Negative. Shields are dis—”

“Can you alter course?” Kathryn interrupted again.

“Negative. Auto navigation is locked.”

“Reduce speed?”

“Negative. Auto naviga—”

“How long until we’re caught inside the sun’s gravity well?”

“Nine minutes and twenty three seconds.”

“Damn it!” She turned to go.

He grabbed her arm, “Kathryn…”

She paused for only a moment. “We don’t have time. Later—”

“What if there isn’t a later?”

She must have sensed his desperation. She pulled back, trapping him with those blue eyes. “Later. I swear,” she said, her lips hovering close to his. Then she was gone, darting up the corridor towards the junction that would take her to deck five and sickbay.

Heart thundering, Chakotay hammered along the deck and slid to a halt outside turbolift two. Out of action. The Jefferies tubes would be his best bet now. He found an access conduit and climbed inside, pushing his aching frame to top speed until he reached a junction with deck four. Groaning, he tumbled out of the shaft.

Thankfully, his security manual override still operated on Tom and B’Eleanna’s door. He offered a quick, silent prayer not to find them in an embarrassing situation. They were both sitting on the sofa, facing that odd televisual device Tom had somehow acquired. It was eerie to see them unbreathing, faces like death masks. He shook off the morbid thoughts and pressed Poxet’s hypospray first to Tom’s neck, and then to B’Elanna’s.

For a moment nothing happened. Dread gripped his chest. What if they were really dead? He shook Tom’s shoulder.

Tom groaned. “Hey Big Guy. What gives?”

B’Elanna stirred too. “Ugh. My head.”

“No time to explain.  _ Voyager’s _ in trouble. Can you stand?”

“Uh. What kinda trouble?” Tom rubbed his eyes blearily.

Chakotay fought back the urge to shake him. “The kind where we’re headed straight into the nearest sun.”

That got Tom’s attention. He straightened up, and B’Elanna leapt to her feet, hitting her combadge. “Torres to Engineering. Vorik, what the hell is going on down there?”

“There’s no one awake in Engineering. The whole crew is in stasis.”

“The whole crew?” B'Elanna echoed.

“All bar me and the captain. We need to get to the Bridge and disengage the auto navigation systems in less than ten minutes or we’re all dead. B’Elanna, get to Engineering. If you can cut power that will buy us more time.”

Rising on unsteady legs, B'Elanna headed to the door. Tom and Chakotay followed close behind.

"Take care," Chakotay warned. "The Captain's already been hurt by an explosive device the Thyopians left behind."

“I’ll be careful,” she promised.

“You’d better,” Tom said, kissing her quickly before she sprinted to Engineering.

“What the hell happened around here?” Tom asked.

“Long story,” Chakotay said.

“Well, how long were we out for?”

“We’re not sure. But it was days rather than hours.”

Tom ran his fingers through his hair. “No wonder I’m hungry.”

As they jogged towards the bridge, Chakotay hit his com badge. “Chakotay to Janeway.”

No response. “Internal comms out too?” Tom said. “What is working around here?”

“Not much.” As he’d rushed to Tom and B’Elanna’s quarters he’d noticed several wall panels open, and at least one missing bio neural gel pack. Who knew what else these bastards had stripped?

Without turbolifts, Chakotay was forced once more to crawl hand to knee through Jefferies tubes, this time with Tom shuffling along behind. Eventually, like a behavioural tick he couldn’t control, he commed Kathryn again. No answer. Next he tried sickbay, which also yielded silence. “Kathryn, where are you?” he muttered.

“She’ll be okay,” said Tom, panting. "Next to my wife, she's the toughest woman I know."

Chakotay grimaced. “She forgets she’s only human, sometimes. Takes way too many risks for my liking.”

“She’s not a straightforward woman. By the way, how did you two escape from stasis?”

“We were never in stasis.”

“How did you manage that?”

“We were... in an area shielded from the beam. Doing a routine inspection.” Chakotay was glad he was behind Tom, and the helmsman was unable to see the crimson flush burning his cheeks.

“Routine inspection? Last thing I remember it was just before breakfast ahead of Alpha Shift.” When Chakotay didn’t respond, Tom continued, “So if we’ve been in stasis for days, where have you and the captain been?”

Chakotay coughed. “Paradise Falls. A pleasure resort.”

“A pleasure resort, eh?”

Chakotay could almost see Tom’s impish grin. “The name makes it sound a whole lot more fun than it actually was.”

“You know, B’Elanna kept the way she felt about me hidden for a long time. Even from herself.”

Chakotay shook his head, wondering where all this was going. “Your point, Paris?”

Tom sighed. “You and the captain. You always…” He hesitated. “What the hell. We’ll probably be dead before you can put me on report. You and the captain spent weeks together on New Earth, and you came back looking like hell. We all thought you must have either fallen out, or fallen in love. Possibly both.”

Chakotay didn’t speak. Too many memories threatened to overwhelm him. The heat was building rapidly, the surfaces growing hotter to the touch. He swiped away a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

“I don’t know what’s gone on between you, Chakotay. You both hold your cards pretty close to your chest. All I’m saying is that if you and the captain have feelings for one another, they’re worth fighting for.”

Chakotay still didn’t trust himself to say a word.

***

Kathryn sprinted to Sickbay, past open access panels, not once stopping to assess the damage and plunder the Thyopians had inflicted on  _ Voyager _ . The heat was rising, although she had no idea if that was due to their increasing proximity to the sun, or a result of the fires she just passed in Jefferies tube six and the aft maintenance shaft.

Ahead, sparks flew from a low set panel, and seconds later flames belched from the wall. She dived aside, but not quickly enough to avoid a searing burn to her leg.

Gasping through the pain, she pressed on through the smoke.

Sickbay doors swished open. She held her breath, offering a silent prayer that the EMH hadn’t been stolen along with the other tech.

“Activate Emergency Medical Hologram,” she commanded.

“Please state the— Captain, thank goodness!”

“Doctor, report.”

“I was deactivated five days ago. Why is it so hot in here? Have you been burned?”

“Long story, Doctor. But we’re flying into a sun.” The Doctor opened his mouth, but before he could speak she thrust the hypospray Poxet had given her into his hand. “Can you replicate this? It will revive the crew.”

“Revive them?” he exclaimed.

“Like I said, long story. Can you do it?”

The Doctor scanned the sprays. Then he nodded. “Yes. It’s a fairly simple combination of stimulants.”

“Good. I need Tuvok and Seven of Nine first. Tom and B'Elanna should already be awake.”

“Captain, you must let me treat your leg. You have second degree burns.”

She held up her hand. “No time, Doctor. Start reviving the crew.”

At that moment the ship jolted. Kathryn had been hoping to feel the ship slowing down as B'Elanna gained control of the engines. Instead, that had felt like acceleration.

Computer started a countdown. “Critical systems failure in five minutes and twenty three seconds.”

Kathryn swore softly. “I thought I’d have time…” Could she even make it to the bridge in under six minutes? Never mind release auto navigation and pilot them safely out. If she failed, the crew would be waking up to die. “Belay that order. Don’t wake the crew until we’re safe.”

“Captain, think about this. If this is the end, don’t you want a few more minutes with the people you care about? To say goodbye?”

“Yes of course I do. But I have a responsibility to spare everyone a terrifying death.” She swallowed hard. “Leave them in stasis until you hear from me, Doctor.”

Without another word, Kathryn ran from sickbay, head ringing. Seven years ago she had sentenced her crew to life in the Delta Quadrant. Today, she’d condemned them to unknowing death. She shook her head. No. Not for another five minutes, anyway. Tom and Chakotay would get to the bridge. If nothing else, she’d see him one last time.

She was on deck five, making the ladder in the turbolift shaft the fastest route. Heart pounding, she pried the door open and climbed, counting off two decks before she paused for breath. If she stopped, if she failed, they were all dead. She forced herself on. Two more decks and she reached the junction which joined the horizontal shaft direct to the bridge. She began to haul herself over. The festering nub of fire in her leg exploded. Groaning through gritted teeth, she yanked herself fully over.

As she lay panting, she hit her comm badge. “Janeway to Chakotay.” Still nothing.

The shaft ahead seemed hazy. Whether it was the pain clouding her vision or actual smoke didn't matter, she forced herself upright and dragged one foot, then the other across the deck.

Ahead, the turbolift blocked the shaft.  _ Of course.  _ She put her head down and began the approximation of a run.

When she reached the lift unit, sweat pouring, chest heaving, she ripped the panel off and grabbed a hypo spanner from her belt. It was short work to get the door open. As she stepped through she heard footfalls behind her. Kathryn whirled around.

Her heart sung with relief as Chakotay and Tom ran towards her. He was alive, and he’d found Tom, who was their best chance of piloting away from the sun’s gravity well.

What happened next seemed to play out in slow motion: what started as a white speck in the bulkhead to Chakotay’s left bloomed into flames.

The explosion flung Chakotay into the air, his eyes wide. The emergency bulkheads slammed shut.

She flung herself at the door and pressed her face to the view panel. Tom was dragging Chakotay away from the flames.

Tom looked up from putting Chakotay in the recovery position, dragged himself to the door and hit the intercom. “He’s unconscious, Captain.”

Kathryn’s heart tore. Should she order Tom to take care of Chakotay, gambling that  _ she _ could reach the bridge and pilot them safely away from the sun? Or have him leave Chakotay alone, injured?

Many years before she’d lost two men she loved, her fiance and her father, because of her arrogance. She wasn’t an ensign now. She was the captain. The hard choices fell to her.

“I need you on the bridge, Tom.”

Tom looked at the flames, metres away from Chakotay’s prone body. “The fire suppression system isn’t working,” he said.

“I know,” she said. Making her choice. “We have four minutes. Meet me at junction six.”

Tom nodded. “Yes ma’am.” Then he was gone.

With one last look at Chakotay, Kathryn put her head down, and hobbled on towards the Bridge. Damn it all to hell! Damn the Thyopians for their murderous ways thinly disguised as justice. Damn fate for throwing her into one desperate situation after another! Damn her soft heart for falling in love with her first officer. And most of all, damn her hard head for not letting her live that love.

She reached another junction. One more level and she’d be on deck one. She could do it. Save her crew. Maybe this time she’d learned enough to save herself, too. No more running away. If they got through this, she’d face her feelings head on. 

She approached the next door. So close now. Picking up her pace, she pressed through the pain.

The door was jammed. She flung her fists and cried out in frustration.

The overwhelming heat fogged her brain. Her head pulsed in time with her thundering heart. She let her forehead rest against the metal of the door. “Computer, time to impact?”

“Four minutes and three seconds.”

She straightened. No time to waste. Tearing the access panel away, she grabbed the manual release handle and tugged. It didn’t shift. She threw her whole body into the task, grunting as every movement tore at the burned flesh on her legs. Over and over, she tried, until her throat was raw from screaming.

“Captain!” Tom thundered along the corridor, and added his weight to hers. 

The handle gave the meanest fraction, but would yield no more.

They yelled aloud, venting their rage as they pulled and pulled until, exhausted and spent, they slumped against the panel.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Tom croaked.

Then, strong arms encircled her shoulders. Two dark hands joined hers and Tom’s on the bar, and the dearest of all voices whispered in her ear. “We’ve got this, Kathryn. Once more, together.” He pressed against her back, a low growl rumble in his chest. She pulled. Tom pulled. Her heart hammered. In one final effort, Chakotay’s fists tightened and reddened, and finally, slowly, the bar moved a fraction, and then suddenly snapped across. The door opened.

They tumbled onto the bridge. The view screen was filled by the sun’s fiery surface, erupting and flaring into space. The ship convulsed. Kathryn could only imagine what the hull must look like, superheated to a deadly orange glow.

Tom raced to the conn, shifting Ayala’s prone body to make space.

Kathryn flung herself towards her chair. “Janeway to Engineering. Can you cut speed?”

“Working on it,” B’Elanna yelled.

“Do what you can.” She turned to the helm. “Tom?”

“Auto-navigation disengaged,” he called over the roar. “It’s going to be bumpy!”

“We’ve got partial shields,” Chakotay reported. “Structural integrity at forty percent.”

The ship was about to shake apart. With eyes stinging from smoke, Kathryn watched the hypnotic red mass of the sun move ever closer. The heated air burned her throat with every breath.

“Here goes,” Tom yelled. “Hold on!”

Kathryn clutched the arm of her chair as _Voyager_ pitched starboard. An arc of white heat exploded from Harry’s station. Chakotay leapt to pull the young man’s prone body away from the fizzing console.

Through the thickening smoke, Kathryn watched Chakotay lay Harry gently down. Chakotay looked up at her, nodded an encouraging smile to let her know Harry was safe, and returned to her side.

“Tom,” she said. “Will we make it?”

“Hold on,” was all the sweat-soaked helmsman could say.

The tomented ship, shaking and screaming its pain into the void, plunged toward the sun. Captain Kathryn Janeway could do nothing but stand and watch and wait.

Without speaking, Chakotay put his arms around her. She sunk into his embrace, resting her cheek against his chest. He tucked his chin over her head. Together, eyes fixed on the hungry inferno, they waited.

Inch by inch, Tom pulled  _ Voyager _ back from the brink. Finally, as they turned and gained distance from the sun, Kathryn dared breathe.

“He did it,” Chakotay whispered.

“We did it,” she corrected.

Still in his arms, Kathryn looked up at Chakotay. Before she could say a word, he was kissing her. Right there, on the bridge of her ship. She might have rebuked him, admonished him to wait for a more suitable, private moment. She might have done a hundred things, but what she chose to do was kiss him back.

The peace she’d felt as she had made the choice to let herself love him a few nights ago in her quarters—for now she knew that’s what she’d done—returned. They were here, together, alive. They would find a way.

When Tom glanced over his shoulder and did a fast double take, she just smiled. “Eyes front, Mr Paris.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, grinning.

After that, Kathryn thought she heard Tom contact engineering, talk quietly to his wife and tell her he loved her. But Kathryn couldn’t be sure. She was far too engrossed with kissing the man  _ she _ loved.


	8. Something Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally figure it out.

Kathryn’s com chimed. “Sickbay to the Bridge.”

“Go ahead, Doctor,” Kathryn said, taking a small reluctant step back from Chakotay.

“May I begin to revive the crew, Captain?”

“Go ahead, Doctor. Start with Engineering. B’Elanna’s all alone down there.”

“Understood.”

Her throat still raw from the smoke she’d breathed in, Kathryn let herself sink into her chair, finally taking the weight off her burned leg. Beside her, Chakotay sat too, his cheek encrusted with blood from an abrasion at his temple. Over their shared console, he took her hand. “You’re very pale. You should pay the Doctor a visit.”

She brushed at the side of his face with her thumb. “So should you. How’s that wound?”

Chakotay touched his ribs. “I’ve had better days,” he said, grimacing. “We’ll both report to sickbay the minute Tuvok and a few more officers are awake.”

Kathryn nodded. “Agreed. In the meantime I’m going to set up an additional firewall to stop the likes of the Thyopians hijacking us again.”

While Kathryn worked, Chakotay checked each unconscious crew member. Tuvok was on the floor by his tactical station, seemingly uninjured. Harry, in a singed uniform, had been spared serious harm.

It wasn’t too long before the turbolift opened to reveal the Doctor.

Chakotay looked up. “Take a look at the captain.”

She raised her hand. “Crew first.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes but complied, waking first Tuvok and then Harry, before continuing to treat the other prone bridge officers. Harry sat up, groaning, rubbing his head. Tuvok sprung almost instantly awake, naturally taking everything in his Vulcan stride.

“Uh oh,” Tom said.

Kathryn groaned. “What now?”

“Two vessels, in coming,” Tom reported. “Thirty thousand kilometers. One firing on the other.”

Kathryn squinted at Tuvok, who seemed a little fuzzy. “Do we have shields?”

Tuvok, already on his feet, supplied, “Shields at sixty percent. Weapons online.”

Kathryn nodded. They wouldn’t be caught a second time.

“Harry?”

The ensign, still disorientated, stumbled back to his damaged console. “Uh, there’s a transmission from the smaller vessel.”

“On screen.”

Kathryn’s mouth dropped open, as Gigete appeared, hunched over a sparking console. Instead of addressing Kathryn straight away, the young woman swiveled in her chair to address Phrell, who stood behind her. “See? You owe me fifty credits, buddy.” Then Gigete grinned. “Well. Kathy Kotay. Or should I say Captain…?”

“Janeway,” Kathryn supplied, incredulous. “I take it you two weren’t really honeymooners either?”

“Journalists,” Gigete replied. “Investigating corruption and illegal memory manipulation on Thyopia.”

The small ship dodged a shot across her bow. Phrell dived to the left to avoid sparks, and barked, “I did _not_ sign up for this!”

Gigete leaned forward. “Captain, will you help us?”

Kathryn turned a little faster than her tender head appreciated. “Tuvok, target the pursuing vessel’s engines. Harry, can you tractor that smaller ship into docking bay two?” As she spoke, sweat beaded on her forehead, and her head started to pulse.

“Aye, Captain,” Harry said, his words stretching out to a slur.

Kathryn’s head throbbed in time with the deep pain in her leg, and the heat—which had decreased as they put more distance between them and the sun—began to rise.

“Why is it getting so damn hot in here again?” A wave of nausea hit her and her vision sprinkled with stars.

“Kathryn?” Chakotay was at her side, but out of focus, his voice distorted, as he said, “Doctor! The Captain.”

The EMH replied with something she couldn’t follow.

“Tuvok, take the bridge,” Chakotay barked.

She wanted to object, but words wouldn’t form. She pitched forwards. Just before the world went dark, she was glad, so very glad, that Chakotay was there to catch her.

***

Kathryn woke in sickbay, swaddled in a green robe.

“Welcome back, Captain.” The Doctor’s voice.

“Report,” she tried to snap, but the sound resembled a weak croak.

A reassuring hand on her shoulder. “All is well. The crew is accounted for, minor injuries only. _If_ you don’t count the captain who suffered third degree burns and smoke inhalation, and the first officer for whom I’ve had to repair rather crude treatment of a bullet wound.”

“The ship?”

The Doctor stepped back. “I’ll let Commander Chakotay fill you in.” His voice lowered. “Keep it brief. You both need to rest.”

Chakotay took her hand. “We’re clear of Thyopian space.”

“Gigete and Phrell?”

“Tuvok them to Liri while you were napping. Gigete said there was enough evidence on Zandren’s data chip to arrest half the senate. They wanted to thank you."

Kathryn closed her eyes. She felt a kiss pressed to her forehead and she smiled.

*******

The Doctor discharged Kathryn from Sickbay with firm instructions to eat and then sleep off the remaining soreness from her injuries. Chakotay met her outside sickbay and they walked slowly to deck three and their quarters, Kathryn stole a glance in his direction, nerves fluttering in her belly.

She stopped and bit her lip. When she spoke, her voice felt oddly thick. “Why don’t you come in, Chakotay. We have a lot to talk about.”

He leaned a little closer, and nodded. As he followed her inside he looked around her quarters as if he was seeing them with new eyes.

She waved him to sit on the sofa. “Are you hungry?”

“A little. Mostly tired and sore, to be honest,” he said.

“Me too.” She sat beside him. “Look. I made a promise to myself a long time ago, that I would never sleep with you to fill an emotional gap, or in a moment of weakness. Believe me, there were plenty of times when I was sorely tempted.

“Good to know,” he said, narrowing his eyes as if he expected her to deliver an emotional body-blow.

But she’d broken every barrier that had ever stood between them, smashed her own parameters out of the park. She wasn’t about to change her mind now.

She grasped his hand. “I’m exactly not sure how this is going to work, but I _am_ sure I want to try.” She leaned in and kissed him gently. “We’re both shattered,” she said. “Let’s have a bite to eat, clean up and get some rest, shall we?”

He put his head on one side. “Are you inviting me to stay?”

She smiled and leaned in until their noses almost touched. “Only for the next seventy years or so. After that, you might need to find a space of your own.”

***

Kathryn woke feeling comfortable, cosy and content.

Last night they had eaten, cleaned up, kissed tenderly, and promptly fallen asleep in each other’s arms. This morning, apparently, was a different story. Chakotay was spooning close behind her, his broad arm draping across her ribs, his hand on her belly, and, unmistakably, his erection pressing—rather deliciously—into her lower back.

She rolled over into his arms. “Good morning.”

Chakotay’s warm eyes greeted her. “Yes it is.”

She let her fingers run over the five black lines on the inside of his wrist. Neither of them had asked the Doctor to remove the marks. “I’m thinking of getting mine tattooed on,” she said.

He laughed. “To remember our fake honeymoon?”

“Oh, I fully intend us to have a _real_ honeymoon. Just as soon as we get back to Earth. No, I want a daily reminder that no matter what comes between us, duty, fractured time, forgetting ourselves, we’ll find one another. And that’s always worth fighting for.”

He took her hand, and gently turned her wrist over, pressing a kiss against the marks on her pale skin. “So no more dancing around our feelings? No more faking?”

“No more faking,” she agreed.

They were still figuring things out. Probably would be for weeks, Kathryn knew, but all that mattered was that in his arms she had finally found something truly, deeply, real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for giving this story so much love! I appreciate every comment and kind word. X


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